


Inside My Dreams, There's Truth But No Logic

by ConcernedReader



Series: The Ship Of Dreams [1]
Category: Titanic (1997)
Genre: (They did too), And edits, And with history, Deleted Scenes, F/M, Falling In Love, First Time, Go Easy On Me, Happy Ending, How we wish Titanic ended, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I don't think I did too bad, If you're on this site, In a 'Rose just knows what he's thinking' Sort of way, It's not really graphic at all, Jack Dawson Lives, Kissing, Liberties Will Be Taken With Canon, Loss of Virginity, Love, Now a two parter, Now with additional content, Nudity, PLEASE READ TAGS, POV Rose, POV Third Person, Romance, Rose keeps her promise, Rose's Thoughts, Sex, Stream of Consciousness, The Portrait, Titanic - Freeform, Watch me try to write anything remotely dirty, We hear Jack's thoughts too sometimes, Word count has doubled, You've probably read more explicit/graphic things than this., no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:42:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25244098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConcernedReader/pseuds/ConcernedReader
Summary: “What would you wish for?”He asks that so easily. Like he’s got a right to know, like he can make it happen. Jack’s eyes trace over her face, intent. He waits.It would be so easy,a voice whispered inside her.I could reach out and kiss him, just once.Rose could be as free as she yearns to be, just for a moment. No one would ever have to know. No one but her and Jack, and the sea and the stars.But it wouldn’t be just once. Her heart wouldn’t let it be just once, and she can’t let that happen.I’d wish for you. For…“Something I can’t have,” Rose answers. Her words have an aching bittersweetness to them. The tingling feeling she had seconds ago stops, and that space between them has turned to ice. Rose can’t take the pain on his face. “Goodnight Jack,” She bids him, pulling away and walking towards the door. She hears a step or two behind her, like Jack means to follow her, or to grab her and keep her from going.Rose looks over her shoulder at him, and sees that pain again. Jack's eyes burn into her, asking her to stay, but Rose turns away. She can still feel his eyes on her long after she’s left.(The things Rose thinks while she's onTitanicwith Jack)
Relationships: Jack Dawson/Rose DeWitt Bukater
Series: The Ship Of Dreams [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2031535
Comments: 5
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! With edits! Why?
> 
> Because I am a neurotic bitch.
> 
> Actually, what happened was that I was writing the companion piece from Jack's perspective and I realized that I was giving him not only more scenes than Rose, but also a higher wordcount. So I edited and added additional content and here we are. Because said word count went from slightly over 10,000 to well over 20,000, I'm splitting this into two chapters.
> 
> These are just a lot of the things that I thought were going on inside Jack and Rose's heads during the film, though this is just Rose's perspective. Just some things that you could absolutely feel them thinking.
> 
> This isn't too dirty, when it gets to the car scene (not in this chapter). I think it's just descriptive enough to give you a good idea of what's happening but still leaves all the juicy details to the imagination. Seriously, read the tags. If you're on this site, you've probably read more explicit stuff than this.
> 
> I preface-- Jack will live in this story. There's a happy ending. More explanation at the end of the next chapter

“This is completely unacceptable!” Her fiancé says to one of the men surrounding them-- men drawn like flies to the scene her and Mister Dawson had made only minutes ago. Rose doesn't know them, even if she could bring herself to pay attention. She knows Cal is there, and Colonel Gracie, and a man she assumes is the master at arms, because he's putting a pair of handcuffs on Jack.

Rose is dimly aware that she should say something. Jack-- _Mister Dawson_ , she corrects herself-- didn't _do_ anything. It was her, and her own stupidity that got them here. _Foolish girl,_ She thinks, chilled to the bone with her own fear, though she declined Colonel Gracie's offer of his brandy and huddled deeper into her blanket. Alcohol couldn't fix this. _I almost died today, I almost died today, I almost died today. I almost killed myself. How can I possibly explain this?_

Cal turns to Mister Dawson in outrage, wearing a black expression. “What made you _think_ that you could put your hands on _my_ fiancé?!”

Rose feels Jack's eyes on her, blue, uncertain. He doesn't know what to say; he's waiting for her. She's so thankful that she could weep, even though she's cried enough tears for one night. Rose can't remember the last time someone kept a secret on her behalf, waited to hear what she thought before speaking. “Look at _me_ , you filth,” Cal demanded, shaking her rescuer by his shirt. 

“Cal,” Rose says, hoping he'll stop. She's not sure what's pulled her from her fog-- maybe it was the way Jack was looking at her, maybe it was Cal's rage at the man who'd saved her life. Rose isn't sure. But Cal hasn't even noticed.

“What do you think you were doing?” He persisted, “What gave you the idea--”

“Cal, _stop!”_ Rose cried. “It was an accident.”

Her fiancé stammers over his words, turning to her in shock. “A-- An accident?” Both Jack and Cal look equally confused, Jack's gaze darting furtively between her and Cal. Cal had no idea why she was out there, and wouldn’t if she could think of something. He only knew what he’d been told by those who came upon her and Mister Dawson, which was flawed to put it mildly. And Mister Dawson-- he was aware that how they ended up the way they were wasn’t exactly an accident. The only unintentional part of it all had been her slipping on the way back over and ending up lying on the deck with him on top of her. He _had_ to be aware that it would be difficult to play that off as an accident without revealing why she was even on the other side of the railing.

“It _was,”_ Rose defended herself, with a shy smile, coming up with a quick excuse. “Stupid really. I was leaning over and I slipped.” But, looking at Jack out of the corner of her eye, Rose could tell she'd have to come up with a better lie. “I was leaning _far_ over to see the ah-- ah…” Rose spins her fingers trying to think of the word-- it’s on the tip of her tongue. By the time she remembers it, though, she’s also realized that appearing foolish is in her favor. She lets it go on far longer than was respectable, spinning her fingers and closing her eyes as she pretends to think.

“Propellers?” Cal asked after a ludicrously long time, voicing the word that had come to mind. Now he looks more irritated than anything else, and Rose can't say she blames him.

“Propellers,” Rose agreed with a smile, before continuing, “And I slipped! And I would’ve gone overboard, but Mister Dawson here saved me, and almost went overboard himself,”

“She wanted to-- she wanted to see the propellers,” Cal chuckled, turning to the other men with a smile.

“Like I said, women and machinery do not mix,” Colonel Gracie replied, rather amused with himself.

“Was that the way of it?” The master at arms asked him with a stern glare. Mister Dawson’s eyes shoot to her, because he _knows._ He was there, he saw. 

_Please,_ she begs him without words, with just a look. _Please._ They couldn’t know. They’d never understand. They’d lock her up in her room for the rest of the trip, and probably until her wedding, and then she’d be trapped forever.

“Yeah,” He answered with a swallow, blue eyes flitting back to the Master at arms at his side. “Yeah, that was pretty much it.”

“Well, the boy’s a hero, then,” Colonel Gracie said with a grin. “Good for you, son. Well done. So, it’s all well, and back to our brandy, eh?” He asked. With a click, Mister Dawson is freed. Rose feels herself let go of a breath she wasn't aware she held. _It's alright,_ She tells herself. _We're both safe, now._ She wasn't on the ledge, and he wasn't in chains.

“Look at you. You must be freezing!" Her fiancé says, suddenly warm and affectionate rather than possessive. She is, admittedly, pulling her blanket close. Cal's hands are on her arms and back, rubbing away the cold. "Let’s get you inside,” He insists, escorting her away, with an arm around her waist. It’s funny-- Rose is sure she doesn’t want to die right now, but with her fiancé so close to her, she thinks that even being back on the balcony would be preferable to _this._ She just wants to be in her bed right now, warm and safe and desperately _alone._ It was the only peace she’d be getting on this voyage.

“Ah, perhaps a little something for the boy,” Said Gracie's voice behind them, pausing her and Cal before they can get away. 

“Of course,” Cal realized. He turned to his dour-faced valet, “Ah, Mr. Lovejoy, I think a twenty should do it.” Lovejoy nodded, already reaching into his pocket for a bill.

Rose scoffed. “Is that the going rate for saving the woman you love?” _Do I have a set value, now? A dollar sign before my name? Surely I must. Rose DeWitt Bukater-- twenty Dollars._ Everything was a transaction with him-- nothing was genuine. Everything was a service. Even this engagement was a service-- she married Cal and gave him children, and he took care of her father’s debts and kept Rose and her mother living comfortably.

Cal looked back to her. “Rose is displeased,” He hummed, looking vaguely amused. “What to do? I know.” He strode over to Jack, alight with a burgeoning idea. “Perhaps you could join us for dinner tomorrow evening. To… regale our group with your heroic tale.”

It takes him a moment to respond, like he wasn't sure what to make of Cal's invitation. “Sure. Count me in.” Jack answered. His eyes are hard, suspicious of what Cal has offered. Rose doesn’t blame him in the slightest.

“Good. It’s settled, then.” Cal smiled. He turned and made his way back to Rose. There's a bit more talking on the way back, but Rose doesn't hear it through her daze. They head to their rooms, his arm around her again. It’s on the way there that Rose realizes she doesn’t trust him, this man that she’s going to marry. That she doesn’t even feel half as safe with him as she did just now with a total stranger.

* * *

Her music box is playing a slow, sweet tune when Cal’s face appears in her mirror. He stands in the doorway, in his nightclothes and a dressing gown. Rose set her hairbrush down on the dresser in front of her.

“I know you’ve been melancholy,” Her fiancé began, his voice quiet and calm. “I don’t pretend to know why.” Cal stepped through the doorway, approaching with smooth steps, a flat box held in his hands. That’s really the last thing that she wants, though. _I don’t… I just don’t want to be around anyone right now. I want him to leave. I want to be alone._ Rose had almost died tonight. It was only by chance that she was sitting here and not floating in the ocean miles back. She would be gone, if Mister Dawson hadn’t saved her. “I intended to save this until the engagement gala next week,” Cal announced, “But…” He took a seat atop her vanity, and pulled back the thick satin lid of the box. “I thought that tonight…”

A gasp escapes her at the sight of what’s inside. The deep blue gem sparkles up at her, brilliant even in such low light as her rooms. White diamonds shine around the heart shaped stone, embedded into the chain of the necklace. “Good gracious,” Rose breathes, grasping the edge of the box, eyeing the contents in shock. 

Cal’s voice was proud, if a bit smug, when he spoke, “It’s a reminder of my feelings for you,” 

_His feelings._ All of a sudden, Rose felt that she might be sick. She swallows down some of her fear. It’s the same fear that had her on the other side of a railing not two hours ago, but it takes every bit of strength she has to keep from running back there now. _This is a gift that’s meant for his wife._ She tastes sour bile on her tongue. _It’s meant for someone who cares for him. Who is devoted to him and wants to spend their life with him. That’s not me. This shouldn’t belong to me._ “Is it a--”

“Diamond?” Cal finished with a grin. He nodded, sliding off her dresser. “Yes,” Her fiancé answered, moving behind her before she can so much as turn her head. “Fifty-six carats to be exact,” He slipped it around her throat, closing the latch effortlessly. It lay cold between her breasts, and heavy. Heavier than anything she’d ever have chosen to wear. The weight of it could choke her, pull her so far down she’d never see the sun again. “It was worn by Louis the Sixteenth, and they called it _Le Coeur de la Mer_ \--”

“The heart of the ocean,” Rose said at the same moment as Cal. 

The corners of his mouth curved upward, his brown eyes glittering at her. “Yes.” Cal smiled at her with a look that one might give a child for being particularly clever. But Rose wasn’t a child-- she’d been learning French since she was four. Her knowing the translation shouldn’t have been nearly as surprising, or amusing, to him as it was. 

Rose brought her hand up to touch it, and felt the cold, hard surface of the stone. “It’s overwhelming.” She says. What else could she say? That she hated it? That it terrified her? _It’s wrong,_ her heart beats. _I don’t deserve this._

“Well, it’s for royalty,” Cal answered in a plain voice, as if that explained it. “We _are_ royalty, Rose.” Cal turned his head to her, resting his head in his hand. Goosebumps creep up her arms, even though it’s plenty warm in here. When he speaks again, Cal’s voice is low and quiet. It hints at something she doesn’t want to acknowledge, yet. The thought of it makes her skin crawl, makes her feel like she’s going to vomit. “You know, there’s nothing I couldn’t give you,” He says, but that’s not true, because he can’t give her happiness, for all he might try. “There’s nothing I’d deny you. If you would not deny me. Oh, open your heart to me, Rose.”

Rose wished she could. She wished she didn’t hate Cal, that she could love him the way a woman ought to love her betrothed. She doesn’t. 

_Maybe it will come with time,_ She assures herself quietly, when Cal is gone. _Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’ll feel better once we’re married._ They’ve already been engaged for more than a year. Rose won’t grow to love him. She won’t be happy. She’ll just be alone, like she has been her whole life.

If she’s not on that railing anymore, then why does she feel like she’s about to fall?

* * *

“Well, I’ve been on my own since I was fifteen, since my folks died,” Jack explained as they went along on the promenade. “And I had no brothers or sisters or close kin in that part of the country, so I lit on out of there and I haven’t been back since. You could just call me a tumbleweed blowin’ in the wind,” He laughed. The sun shone extra bright today; Rose noticed how prettily it caught on Jack's dusty gold hair. Rose didn't know why she'd gone down to third class seeking Mister Dawson, other than curiosity. She hadn't thought she'd find such a kindred spirit in him, though. Jack was easy to talk to, but he was also a spectacular listener. What a refreshing concept.

“Well, Rose. We’ve walked about a mile around this boat deck,” Jack said, turning his gaze to her, “and chewed over how great the weather’s been, and how I grew up. But I reckon that’s not why you came to talk to me, is it?”

Rose released a sigh-- she expected this topic would come up when she sought out Misted Dawson, but she had hoped that it wouldn't. _Too much to hope for,_ She thought, biting down on her tongue. Remembering the sort of foolishness she’d gotten up to last night wasn’t exactly pleasant, and having to _talk_ about it made her feel unsteady in a way not unlike the gentle swaying of the _Titanic_ underfoot. “Mister Dawson, I--”

 _“Jack.”_ He insisted, nodding his head. It was the third time that day he’d asked her to call him by his first name. He hadn’t seemed to like being called ‘Mister Dawson’ to begin with. 

“Jack,” Rose corrected herself, her stomach twisting. “I want to thank you for what you did.” She says, watching him with a careful gaze. Her hands worried at each other in her lap. “Not just for pulling me back, but for your discretion.”

Jack answers, “You’re welcome.” without even thinking. She likes that about him-- he doesn’t seem to need the particulars of her situation, an explanation or to know _why_ she was thanking him. Rose can’t seem to stop talking, though. The words won’t stop coming. She's never told anyone about how trapped she feels with her engagement and she can’t bear to stop now.

“Look, I know what you must be thinking,” Rose shook her head. She thought it herself, right up until the moment when she climbed over the railing. “Poor little rich girl. What does she know about misery?” _I’ve lived a fine life, far easier than so many others,_ That little voice in her head whispered. It was funny, how much it sounded like her mother rather than her. _What right do I have to be unhappy with everything that I have? I’m being silly._

“No. No, that’s not what I was thinking,” Jack insists. Rose stops at the sincerity in his voice, so powerful that she believes for a moment that the notion never even occurred to him. “What I was thinking was, what could’ve happened to this girl to make her think she had no way out?”

She tries to think of a simple answer, a solid thing that led her to the railing last night. Rose can't find one-- there were too many reasons, too numerous to count, but they were all encased in that ball of fear in her stomach. “Well, I… it was _everything_ ,” Rose slumped against the railing, exhausted. Even now, it feels impossible to put to words, but she tries her hardest to make sense of it. “It was my whole world, and all the people in it. And the inertia of my life… plunging ahead, and me… powerless to stop it.” Rose held out her hand to him. Her engagement ring glints in the sun, made of platinum and three heavy diamonds. Even after wearing it for so long, the sight of it still makes her sick.

“God,” Jack laughed, grabbing her hand with wide, amazed eyes. “Look at that thing! You would’ve gone straight to the bottom!”

When she speaks, it’s because Rose can’t think to do anything else. That paralyzing fear is there again, the same kind that brought her to the railing last night. Lavender bridesmaid’s dress, and engagement galas, and a wedding gown that _mother_ chose, and a diamond necklace that weighed at least a pound. Before she knows it, she can barely breathe. “Five hundred invitations have gone out. All of Philadelphia society will be there. And all the while, I feel I’m standing in the middle of a crowded room, screaming at the top of my lungs, and no one even looks up.”

“Do you love him?”

It takes her a second to realize what he’s said, and when she does, Rose doesn’t quite believe it. “Pardon me?”

“Do you love him?” Jack asks again, without a beat. 

She frowned. _It-- it’s not that easy. He wouldn’t understand._ “You’re being very rude. You shouldn’t be asking me this.”

“Well, it’s a simple question,” Jack said with a shrug, awaiting an answer. “Do you love the guy or not?”

Rose can’t hold back her laughter. “This is not a suitable conversation,” She insists. _It’s… I made a promise, and we’ve got debt, and no money, and… this isn’t even his business anyway. Where does he get off asking me my innermost thoughts? We’ve only just met!_

“Why can’t you just answer the question?” He asked with a smirk, eyes sparkling in her direction.

“This is absurd!” She laughed, backing away. “You don’t know me, and I don’t know you, and we are _not_ having this conversation _at all_ . You are rude, and uncouth, and presumptuous, and I am _leaving_ now.” Rose takes his hand and shakes it, a proper enough goodbye. Only too many moments pass where they haven’t let go of each other’s hand, and instead of a handshake Rose imagines they look something like children playing tug-o-war. “Jack, Mister Dawson, it’s been a pleasure. I sought you out to thank you, and now I have thanked you--”

“And you’ve insulted me,”

“Well, you deserved it,” Rose countered. Jack had no business asking her about those things.

“Right,”

“Right,” She nodded.

“I thought you were leaving,” Jack asks, a quirk in his eyebrows. He’s daring her-- pressing to see if she’ll actually go. She won’t-- _She_ **_will_ ** _,_ Rose reminds herself.

“I am,” She insists, even though her feet aren’t moving yet. Rose lets go of his hand. “You are so _annoying,”_ Rose laughs over her shoulder. Jack chuckled, flashing a brilliant grin at her. “Wait, I don’t have to leave,” She realizes, turning around. “This is my part of the ship. _You_ leave,” Rose demands, pointing back to the third class deck. _I can’t storm off on my own part of the ship._

Jack laughs in surprise, a hand on a rope of the rigging. “Well, well, well. Now who’s being rude?” He accuses her, with raised eyebrows. Rose _is_ being rude, perhaps. But at the moment, she's also feeling a tad too petty to care.

Rose scoffs, and does the only thing she can think to do-- snatch the brown folder he’s been carrying around for hours. “What is this stupid thing you’re carrying around?” She questions, looking through it. On the first page, there’s a charcoal drawing of a man and a small child at the ship railing, watching the waves on the horizon. There’s another on the next page, of an old man’s face, wearing a bowler hat with a long grey beard, and another drawing on the page after that. “So what are you, an artist or something?” Rose glances from the folder to Jack and back again. He's smiling faintly, handsome in his amusement. “These are rather good,” She admits, paging through yet another drawing. The shading was brilliant on all of them, the scale and proportions perfect. Rose crosses the promenade and takes a seat on a deck chair. “They’re… they’re _very_ good, actually.” Jack approaches her, taking a seat on the opposite chair. She studies a drawing of a woman with her coat undone, breastfeeding the baby in her arms, and another of gentle hands touching a small child’s belly. Thel look so real that the drawings could be alive themselves. “Jack, this is exquisite work,”

“Ah, they didn’t think too much of ‘em in old Paree,” He sighed, leaning forward on his elbows and looking at his artwork.

“Paris?” She asks. Jack nods, looking up at her with an unreadable expression. _That’s… far._ “You do get around,” Rose responds, impressed. She had spent a week or so in Paris on this tour, with Mother and Cal, but Rose imagines that his experiences there were somewhat different. An American, who had somehow made it to Paris, and then back to England within the space of a few years, and he wasn’t living like her. “For a p-- well a-- a person of limited means.”

“Go on,” Jack laughed with an arresting grin. She tries to push down the feeling his smile gives her, but Rose can’t quite manage it. “I’m a poor guy, you can say it,”

All of a sudden, she’s looking at a nude woman on one of the pages, with wispy dark hair and a heady gaze, smoking a cigarette. “Well, well, well,” Rose gasps. She’s not truly scandalized by it-- nudity had been an art form for centuries now, but it was still quite interesting. “And these were drawn from life?” She asks, furtively glancing in his direction.

Jack waits till a man passes them to answer-- they didn't need to attract any attention to themselves. "Well, that’s one of the good things about Paris, you see.” he explains, leaning forward. “Lots of girls willing to take their clothes off,”

“You liked this woman.” Rose says, turning over the page to see yet another picture of her. “You used her several times.” He must have known her quite well, and spent a lot of time with her to have so many drawings of her. She can’t imagine where Jack would’ve drawn her-- he didn’t sound as if he’d had a permanent residence for a while. Perhaps her house, if she lived alone, or...

“Well, she had beautiful hands, you see?” Jack answers, reaching out and brushing his finger over a drawing of hands that she’d passed over, which she now knew belonged to the woman in these other drawings of his. 

Rose teases him with a coy smile, “I think you must have had a love affair with her.” Not many women would so readily take off their clothes for an acquaintance, even _if_ that acquaintance was an artist.

“No, no, no, no. Just with her hands,” Jack insists, laughing with a gesture to the paper. “She was a one legged prostitute,” Rose lifts her head, making a face. _How could she be?_ Rose wondered, studying the image of her. _He’s drawn her so well, I didn’t see any missing limbs…?_ “See?” Jack flips back a page or so and points at her short leg, shaded so inconspicuously that she’d only thought her knee was bent, to hide the foot.

 _“Oh,”_ Rose realizes, embarrassed, tipping her head and swallowing. _So that’s it,_ She thinks. She’d desperately like to laugh at herself for not seeing that before, but her propriety won’t quite allow that.

“Ah, she had a good sense of humor, though,” Jack sighed, eyes far off as he remembered her. “Oh, and this lady,” He says, turning to another page, with a different drawing. This one is of a grim looking old woman, drowning in her coat. “She used to sit at this bar every night, wearing every piece of jewelry she owned, just waiting for her long lost love. We called her _Madame Bijoux_. See how her clothes are all moth eaten?” He touches the page, again, over the delicate shading and highlights that make his drawings seem so real, so lifelike.

“Well, you have a gift, Jack,” Rose says. She sees it now, in a way she didn’t last night. Jack is brilliant, and she’s glad that it was him who saved her. She wonders, though, if she won’t end up in his book of drawings before long-- standing on the other side of the railing, crying. _The girl who didn’t Jump._ It was quite the story. “You do. You see people.”

“I see you,” He says.

Rose realizes then, just how blue his eyes are. The weight of his gaze almost takes her breath away. She can’t help but preen at his words, curious to know what he thinks of her, what sort of truth he’s uncovered in her consciousness that she didn’t know. _What secrets do I have?_

“And?” She asks, tipping her head up with a proud smile. 

When Jack answers, his stare is piercing, but it’s his words that leave her feeling like she’s been stripped bare and left in the cold. “You wouldn’t have jumped,”

* * *

“Jack, must you go?” Rose asks. He’s turned to her as the other men have departed, and means to say goodnight. She’s not sure what he’ll do for the rest of the evening. It was just before nine in the evening-- a bit too early to be going to bed yet. Though, Rose would bet good money that whatever it was, it would be far more interesting than anything in store for her.

“Time for me to go row with the other slaves,” Jack said with a wry smile. His eyes twinkle down at her, mischievous, but not lacking in warmth. It makes her skin tingle all over as she wishes once again that he didn’t have to leave, or better yet, that she could go with him. “Goodnight, Rose,” He says, offering his hand out to her. Rose takes it, and Jack places a featherlight kiss on her hand. There’s something papery stuck between his fingers. When he pulls away, gaze lingering on her, he leaves the slip in her hand. Jack turns away without another word, throwing a heavy look over his shoulder in her direction as he goes.

 _Read it,_ the look says. Rose couldn’t resist her curiosity here even if she’d tried. She turns her head, checking her surroundings, but no one is watching her. Mother sits behind her, chatting with the Duchess and the other ladies, while Cal and the other gentlemen have all shuffled out to the smoking room. She unfolds the note in her lap, and reads Jack’s scrawling cursive handwriting.

_Make it count. Meet me at the clock._

She looks up.

_He wants me to meet him._

Rose excuses herself after a moment, catching a suspicious look from her mother, and makes for the doorway Jack disappeared out of. _Should I be doing this?_ She wonders. Rose doesn’t know what he’s got planned. She was engaged. _But not married,_ She reminds herself. _Not yet. Surely one night won’t matter? How could it?_

The clock sounds for Nine, and she’s at the bottom of the staircase. Jack is waiting at the top, with his back to her, watching the clock. He hasn’t noticed her yet.

Rose approaches. 

As she nears, Jack seems to sense it, turning with a grin on his face. He’s mischievous again, smirking. Rose’s stomach churns with nerves as he looks at her, but it’s a good nervous, like butterflies. _I’d give anything to slow my heart down,_ She thinks of the racing in her chest. It’s so loud, that for a moment, Rose almost can’t hear when Jack opens his mouth. “So, do you want to go to a _real_ party?”

She _does._

* * *

“Come, Josephine, in my flying machine, going up she goes, up she goes…” With wild grins, her and Jack stumble over the words of the song. “...Something about a bird on a beam, in the air she goes--”

“Where?” Rose sang, “There she goes. Up, up, a little bit higher. Oh, my! The moon is on fire…” Just for a moment, Rose manages to tear her eyes away from Jack. And there it was. All at once, their singing stops. Right in front of them is the first class entrance, and it has brought their lovely evening together to a jarring halt. If Rose could steal more time with him and away from all that, she would, gladly. That isn't an option and she knows it.

Rose turns to face Jack. She tries to smile, but it keeps slipping from her face. She can’t make herself want to leave him-- it's the last thing she wants, really, and it shows. She pressed herself into a goodbye, though; pulled Jack’s coat from her shoulders and passed it back to him. “Here we are,” Rose said, hesitant.

“Right,” Jack nodded, sighing, taking his coat back. He's just as disappointed with the abrupt end to their night as she is, judging by the face he makes. Rose could hardly believe how fast the time went, but before she knew it it was after midnight and time to return.

Rose smiles shyly at Jack. "I don't want to go back," She admits, like it’s some sort of secret. Rose should want to go back. But for the life of her, she can’t stop from smiling at him like an idiot.

Above, the stars catch her eye. They’re twinkling above them, brilliant. Dark, and wonderful. For a moment, it takes her breath away. “Look,” Rose remarks, still gazing upward. “It’s so beautiful.” Jack agrees, just as taken with the night sky as she is. She takes hold of a piece of the rigging, spinning around to face him as he approaches. “So vast and endless… We’re so small. My crowd, they think they’re giants,” Rose looks to him, and back at the sky. “They’re not even dust in God’s eye.”

Jack looks down at her-- he’s got an air of mischief on his face, and it’s deeply endearing. “You know, there’s been a mistake.” He informs her, serious. “You’re not one of them. _You_ got mailed to the wrong address.”

Rose bursts into laughter. “I did, didn’t I?” Above them, there's a tiny flash of light-- Rose looks up to see it before it’s gone. “Look!” She exclaims, pointing at the silver streak darting across the sky. “A shooting star!”

Jack comes closer to her to see, and in another moment the star fades from their view. “That was a long one,” He says softly, eyes still trained on the sky. Jack turned his head to her. “You know, my Pops used to tell me every time you saw one, it was a soul going to heaven.” He looks upward again, like he can see souls rushing past on the starlight.

"I like that," Rose told him in answer. It was nice to think that someday, she'd get to travel among the stars. “Aren’t we supposed to wish on it?” She asks him in a quiet voice.

Jack looks down at her all of a sudden. The softness in his eyes is almost unbearable. She wants to close the distance left between them more than anything. But that line seems impossible to cross. Her skin tingles, like she’s got lightning trapped inside her. “Why?” He’s dead serious when he speaks, not joking or smiling or laughing at all, like she’s ridiculous or silly. Jack doesn’t think so, and he’s never thought of her that way, the way Cal or Mother might. It’s because he really wants to know. “What would you wish for?”

He asks that so easily. Like he’s got a right to know, like he can make it happen. Jack’s eyes trace over her face, intent. He waits. _It would be so easy,_ a voice whispered inside her. _I could reach out and kiss him, just once._ Rose could be as free as she yearns to be, just for a moment. No one would ever have to know. No one but her and Jack, and the sea and the stars. 

But it wouldn’t be just once. Her heart wouldn’t let it be just once, and she can’t let that happen. _I’d wish for you. For…_ “Something I can’t have,” Rose answers. Her words have an aching bittersweetness to them. The tingling feeling she had seconds ago stops, and that space between them has turned to ice. Rose can’t take the pain on his face. “Goodnight Jack,” She bids him, pulling away and walking towards the door. She hears a step or two behind her, like Jack means to follow her, or to grab her and keep her from going. 

Rose looks over her shoulder at him, and sees that pain again. Jack's eyes burn into her, asking her to stay, but Rose turns away. She can still feel his eyes on her long after she’s left.

* * *

"I'm not a Foreman in one of your mills that you can command," Rose says to Cal. The conversation had taken a turn for the worse, and where she might ordinarily go silent, Rose continues to push words from her mouth, though it feels a bit unnatural to talk back this way. Maybe last night has left her feeling more gutsy than usual, but she doesn't stop herself where she ought to. She's not sure if she's excited or afraid-- her hands are cold, her heart is racing so fast she can hear it. Her stomach twists like she's about to vomit, and she's chilled but still sweating a bit. "I'm your fiancée,"

Cal stares at her in shock, silent for a moment, but Rose can already tell that she's made a mistake with her words before he's even responded. "My fiancé. _My_ _fiancé!"_ He rises to his feat in a heartbeat, knocking plates and glasses from the table, where they crash onto the floor. "Yes, you are!" He spat in rage as he shoved the table over and out of his way and advanced on Rose, putting his hands on her chair to trap her. _"And my wife!_ My wife in _practice_ , if not yet by law. So you will _honor me."_ Cal fumed. Rose couldn't stop shaking, couldn't stop the way her heart beat faster in fear. A lump sat in her throat, signaling the tears that were going to come, already welling up. Cal softened, just a bit, but didn't smile. "You will honor me the way a wife is _required_ to honor her husband, because I will _not_ be made a fool of, Rose. Is this in any way unclear?"

"No," Rose gasped, shaking her head.

"Good," Cal answered. "Excuse me," Like nothing had happened, her fiancé stalked from the room to prepare for the day.

"Miss Rose," Trudy cried when he was gone, rushing over to help. Rose could feel her heart in her throat.

"We had a little accident," Rose stammered, trying not to cry. She slipped off of her chair and down onto her knees to pick up a few shards of broken china. Trudy was at her side in an instant, telling her that it was alright again and again. _It's not alright, it's not alright. How can this be alright?_ "I'm sorry, Trudy. Let me help you," Rose insisted, though her hands still wouldn't stop shaking, even as she picked up pieces of glass from the floor.

Trudy stops her, taking her wrist gently. Her hands were callused the way that Jack's were, from working. It calms Rose. "It's alright, miss," She says softly, taking the pieces from her. Rose's hand slips to Trudy’s shoulder. She falls back off her knees with her other hand over her heart, gasping a sob as it rises up her throat. "It's alright, miss,"

It wasn't alright. _How can this be alright? How can Cal say that he loves me and do this?_ Rose sobs there on the floor, a hand over her mouth and her maid at her side. She wasn't sure about her life anymore, about what was going to happen when _Titanic_ docked. But how could she change things now? It was too late. _It's too late._

* * *

“Tea, Trudy,” Mother’s voice demands from the back of the room, harsh and cool. Rose turns over her shoulder to look at Mother as Trudy lets go of the laces on her corset. 

The maid pursed her lips, but wouldn’t disobey. _She won’t tell Mother about this morning, either. As if it would make a difference if she did._ “Yes, Ma’am,” Trudy answered with a meek expression. She left the room in a hurry to get the tea, leaving Rose alone with Mother, who closed the door loudly behind her.

 _She’s not happy with me,_ Rose thinks. _Is she ever?_ It was a perfectly reasonable question-- just not to her mother. When was the last time that Mother had been pleased with something that she had done? And now-- her escapades with Jack, a third class man, no less, as she was engaged to someone else. Rose doubts that her mother has ever been so furious with her. And she could feel it; Mother laces her corset far tighter than was necessary-- far tighter than Trudy had done it. Discomfort pricks at Rose’s sides as she pulls on the laces. Her hands tighten against the bedpost.

“You’re not to see that boy again,” Mother says softly, tugging particularly hard on one of the laces. “Do you understand me?” Rose doesn’t respond, but her mother understands all the same. She had no intentions of staying away from Jack, and if she did, it would not be because of anyone but her. Mother’s jaw set, and her gaze hardened. “Rose. I forbid it.”

“Oh, stop it, Mother.” Rose sighs, “You’ll give yourself a nosebleed.”

Mother’s hand clenches around Rose’s arm, turning her around so they face one another. Mother scowls at her, gaze sharp. Her grip is firm, hard enough that it could bruise. She purses her lips, tempted to fight, and try to free her arm. She doesn’t. There’d be no point. Rose would hear this either way. “This is not a game,” Mother hisses. “Our situation is precarious. You know the money is gone.”

 _This again._ It always came back to the money. It always came back to blaming Father for it, as though Mother hadn’t had as much a hand in draining their funds as Rose’s Father had with his bad investments. “Of course I know the money’s gone,” Rose answers. _Does she think I’m stupid? She must._ To anyone like her mother, her actions of late would seem incredibly foolish. “You remind me every day,” She adds, with as much snark in her voice as she dares.

“Your father left us nothing but a legacy of bad debts hidden by a good name,” Mother says. It was the same argument she gave for everything, now. It was always about the debts, alway how it was Father’s fault. “That name is the only card we have to play.” Mother released her, giving a weak shrug, her brow furrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand you,” She groused, “It is a fine match with Hockley. It will ensure our survival.”

“How can you put this on my shoulders?” Rose demands, retreating against the bed. _I’m just seventeen. Why should I have to spend my life with Cal to pay for other people’s mistakes?_

It was exactly the wrong thing to say. Her mother was livid. “Why are you being so selfish?” She asks.

 _“I’m_ being selfish?” Rose bit back. If this was what Mother thought selfish was, Rose ought to be laughing now. Except it wasn’t funny-- Mother was trying to force her into a life she didn’t want for the sake of her own comfort.

Mother pales. “Do you want to see me working as a seamstress?” She whispers. “Is that what you want?” _No._ She didn’t want that. Mother could never survive that sort of life. The sort of life that people like Jack lived every day. Rose looks down at the floor. _That_ would destroy her. _How can I ask her to be miserable for my sake? I’m no better than her if I do._ “To see our fine things sold at auction? Our memories scattered to the winds?” She looks away, choking on a sob. Mother covered her mouth with a hand, breathing hard.

“It’s so unfair,” Rose sighs. There was no way they could both get what they wanted. Mother couldn’t be happy living without comfort. _I can’t be happy with Cal._ Rose thinks of Jack’s smile-- it aches at her heart, because she can’t care for him the way she wants to. Whatever was between them couldn’t go on. Her family was just two, now, Mother and her. _She’s still my mother._ Nothing would change that. She’d have to do her duty and marry Cal, like they planned, if she wanted to keep her family. Jack couldn’t be a part of it. 

“Of course it’s not fair,” Mother answered, calming some, but with shaking hands when she reached out to take the laces of her corset again. “We’re women. Our choices are never easy,”

* * *

Rose can see the wildness in his eyes when he talks to her that morning. Jack can’t seem to get out what he wants to say, but Rose thinks she knows, because she thinks she feels the same. Only that’s terrifying. 

“Jack, I’m engaged. I’m marrying Cal,” Rose insists. “I love Cal,” She doesn’t even believe herself when she says it this time, and Jack doesn’t either. Loving Cal is a lie she has told herself to make her engagement to him easier, to make her inevitable marriage easier. If she loved Cal, she never would have thought of killing herself. If she loved Cal, she never would have met Jack. But how can Rose walk away from Cal for someone she’s only known two days, even if she feels this way? Her mother and Cal would never let her out of this engagement, but if she doesn’t love Cal and marries him anyway, the rest of her life will be spent in misery. Her and Jack, together-- it is like she’s said. Impossible.

More than anything, she's said it to turn him away. Only it hasn't worked-- he's still here. Jack's eyes are brilliant in the morning light, sparkling and soft with affection. "Rose, you're no picnic," He began. "Alright, you're a spoiled little brat, even. But under that, you're the most amazingly astounding… _wonderful_ girl-- _woman,_ that I've ever known. And--"

His words are wonderful. They're more than anyone's ever said to her, the best compliment ever paid. Rose knows what this really is though, and she can't let him say those words. "Jack, I--" 

"No, no, let me try and get this out," Jack insists, following her down the wall when she walks out of his space, pulling gently on Rose's arm to halt her. Rose leant back against the windowsill as he spoke, urgency in his eyes. "You're amaz--" Jack cut himself off then, softening his voice. “I’m not an idiot. I know how the world works,” He says. “I’ve got ten bucks in my pocket, and I have _nothing_ to offer you, and I _know_ that. I understand.”

Jack moves his head closer to her, in an even quieter voice. "But I'm too involved, now. You jump, I jump, remember? I can't turn away without knowing you'll be alright," He pauses then, breathing quietly. "That's all that I want," 

That’s not what Jack wants to say. His eyes say it all the same, glittering in pale aquamarine. The force of it is enough to make her heart ache.

“Well, I’m fine,” Rose answers him. “I’ll be fine. Really.” It’s a lie, and she knows it. Cal screamed at her and flipped a table this morning for simply going to a party without his permission. What else would he do to her, if she stayed? Her eyes had burned from crying well into the morning service. How could she survive the rest of her life with Cal if he acted that way every time she did something he didn't like?

Jack doesn’t believe her, and he's right not to. "Really?" He looks at her skeptically. _He can't know about this morning,_ Rose assured herself, _And I won't tell him._ Rose knew what Jack would do if he discovered how Cal had treated her this morning. It must be that uncanny ability of his that she'd first brought up-- seeing people-- that's clueing him in on her distress. Jack had always been able to see right through her, even the truths she wouldn't let herself believe. "I don't think so. _They’ve_ got you trapped, Rose,” He points out the window at the tour that is moving farther and farther away. She knows how he feels, even if he won’t say it. She’s too afraid to let herself feel it in return. "And you're gonna die if you don't break free. Maybe not at first, because you're strong, but…" Jack brings his hand up to her cheek, his thumb gently rubbing against her skin. "Sooner or later, that fire that I love about you, Rose… that fire's going to burn out,"

He's really afraid for her then, begging her to choose to be saved from this. And why shouldn't he be? He'd met her trying to kill herself by jumping off the back of the ship. And the only thing that had changed about that situation that made her want to jump was his involvement. But Jack wouldn't be around forever to keep her from jumping. Not after the ship docked. It's not lost on her that if it weren’t for him, she’d be dead already.

Jack’s hand is on her face. His eyes are so soft that she could sink into them and stay there forever. Rose’s heart is in her throat, racing. She’s afraid, but never of him. She fears what her own heart is doing, the direction it is pulling her in. Rose could kiss him then. It’s plain as day that Jack wants to kiss her too. Rose can't, though. 

She demurs, pulling back. She won't be anyone's damsel to save, no matter how she cares for Jack. Rose can't just give up everything over the past few days. Her eyes burn with tears that she won't let herself cry. “It’s not up to you to save me, Jack.”

Jack answers her with steely eyes. “You’re right. Only you can do that,”

Rose puts her hand on top of his, lingering. Once again, it would be all too easy to say yes, to go with him, to let him kiss her. Once again, Rose makes herself pull away, pulling his hand away from her face. “I’m going back,” She says to Jack, though she doesn’t want to. “Leave me alone,” Rose ducks away from him and out of the gymnasium. Once again, she can feel Jack's eyes on her when she walks away.

When she makes it back to the group, she wonders just how long she will be able to stay away from him.

* * *

"Tell Lucille about the disaster you had with the stationaries,"

"Well, of course, the invitations had to be sent back-- _twice_ ," Rose's mother replied in a huff.

"Oh, my dear!" One of the women gasped.

Mother shook her head, leaning in. "And the dreadful bridesmaids' gowns, let me tell you what an odyssey _that_ has been. _Rose_ decided she wanted lavender-- she knows I detest the color, so she did it out of spite."

"If only you'd come to me sooner! Ruth saw some of my designs in _La Mode Illustrée_..." Lady Duff Gordon continued to prattle on about her designs and fashion, but Rose had long ago stopped paying attention to Mother and her friends.

A few tables away, she looked on at a mother and daughter, finely dressed as all the other first class ladies were. The child couldn't have been more than seven or eight, the same age as little Cora, but already she was learning manners and etiquette. Her mother put a gentle hand on her back, moving her little girl into the proper position like a doll, back straight and seated close to the table. Daintily, the child placed a clean white napkin in her lap.

 _I was her, once,_ Rose thought as she watched the girl. She had once been taught how to sit and speak and stand and walk, until hardly anything she did felt like it was hers. That was all she was to Cal, and to her mother-- a doll. A doll to be moved and placed as they desired, a doll to be a means of retaining status, a doll to be bought and sold like a prized broodmare.

Perhaps more terrifying was that the only times of the last few years, since her father died, when Rose could recall feeling like anything _but_ a doll was when she was about to jump off the ship, and, when she was with Jack.

Rose looked at the mother and daughter again. If she didn't save herself like Jack wanted her to, she would become the mother she was watching. Rose would be her, moving Cal's children like dolls, the girls at least, and letting the boys learn to become Cal, and having god knew what done to her for breaking the rules, like she had this morning. And on and on it would go-- her daughters would be sold like Ruth, like Rose, teaching their own children to become dolls to be sold. _I'm looking at myself in a few years, if I don't stop this_. If she stayed away from Jack, and didn't save herself.

She couldn't let the image become real. _The cycle can't continue,_ Rose thought. _It's stopping with me. I won't become my mother, I won't let my children become me._ She'd have to find a way out of this engagement, and find a way to a free life, where people weren't toys that could be bought and sold.

_I have to find Jack._

* * *

“Hello, Jack.” Rose announces herself. Jack turns abruptly, surprised at her presence, eyes wide. She could see him wondering what she'd come to say, so she said the only thing she could think of. “I changed my mind,” Rose tells him with a bashful smile. Slowly, a smile crept its way onto his face. She walks closer. “They said you might be up here--”

“Shh,” Jack put a finger to his lips. “Give me your hand,” He requests in a soft voice. When he puts his hand out, Rose takes it. His skin is warm, and bathed in the golden light of the sun. It shines on his hair, and makes his eyes even more beautiful. Jack moves close to her, so close that she can feel the warmth of his body. “Now close your eyes. Go on,” He insists.

Rose isn’t really sure what he was doing, but she humors him, and shuts her eyes. “Now step up,” He says, helping her closer to the railing with a hand on her back. “Now hold onto the railing. Keep your eyes closed, don’t peek.”

“I’m not,” Rose tells him. She never would have done something like this with Cal, never without question, and Cal never would have asked her what Jack was asking her now. She’d never trusted Cal the way she trusted Jack. 

Next he tells her, “Step up onto the railing. Hold on,” With his help, her feet find it. Carefully she stands on the lowest rung, holding onto the highest bar of it and a piece of the rigging right next to her. “Hold on,” Jack repeats, moving up close behind her. His chest was at her back, his heartbeat between her shoulder blades. “Keep your eyes closed,” Rose laughed at his directions, but complies anyway. “Do you trust me?” He asks.

“I trust you,” Rose feels Jack’s hands pulling at her arms, guiding them up and out with care. She doesn’t resist, and holds her arms all the way out at her sides, while Jack does the same. 

“Alright,” Jack whispered in her ear. His hands are gone from her arms, and come to rest on her waist, splayed across her belly. They keep her steady where she might otherwise fall. “Open your eyes,” He commands, and she does.

Rose can hardly believe what she sees. There’s wind under her arms, in her face. The sky is brilliant before them, dancing between shades of lavender and tangerine, fuschia and gold. The black waves below them reflect back those same colors at their peaks. She can’t keep her smile in, so she beams freely at the open air. “I’m flying,” Rose gasps. “Jack…” She feels Jack’s arms extend out to where hers are, his hands warm on hers. They’re callused in some parts and soft in others, but she doesn’t mind. His touch feels right on her hands, calluses or no.

“Come Josephine in my flying machine, going up she goes, up she goes…” He sings softly in her ear. Rose giggles. She was lighter than air. She was flying… flying with Jack, her heart on wings. This feeling in her chest, a singing, flying, longing feeling. Rose had never felt it before, but she knew it all the same. It was another thing she’d never felt with Cal. Nothing was as real as that feeling… just yesterday she thought she loved Cal, this morning had tried so hard to convince herself she did. Only Rose didn’t love him, and she never had. And now that she had Jack, she never would.

The wind and the waves were roaring, and the light was dying in the west. His fingers intimately roamed across her hands, over her fingers and knuckles and tendons. The silk collar on her dress fluttered in the breeze, and though Rose had gooseflesh creeping up her arms, she couldn’t even feel the cold. Jack’s arms slipped lower, warm around her waist. Rose’s chest swelled as she took in a breath. Nothing was as right as this was, now. Nothing in the whole world. Nothing was as right as Jack’s hands in hers, as Jack’s skin on hers, as his arms around her. Nothing in the world was as safe. Nothing in the world was as right as they were, like this; together.

His breaths on her neck slowed. Rose could feel the heat of his gaze on her, so she turned to look at him. Jack’s eyes were pale aquamarine, and she could’ve drowned in them, the way they swallowed her up then, devouring her, memorizing her face. She watched them grow darker with that same thing stirring in her heart. Love. Rose tipped her head back, and Jack leaned down for her. Somewhere in the middle, their lips met. 

As they kissed, Rose couldn’t hear a thing save for the pounding of her own heart. But she could feel Jack’s soft lips on hers, and the wind in her hair, and his neck underneath her hand. She could see stars behind her eyes. Rose could smell the salt and soap on his skin, taste smoke and mint in his kiss.

All she wanted was more.

* * *

Piece by piece, Rose takes off her clothes. Her satin belt first, then the blue velvet jacket. She drapes them over her bed, so they don’t wrinkle. She pulls off her cream shirtwaist, with lace down the front, and unbuttons her skirt. It slides to the floor around her ankles.

Nervousness bubbles in her stomach again. _Jack is just outside,_ she thinks. _Don’t think about that,_ Rose scolds herself a moment later. _He’s going to see me…_ No one had ever seen her like he was going to. 

With a swallow, she takes off her necklace. Off comes the petticoat, lifted over her head in a manner that Rose-- with a giggle-- knows would make her mother blush and scold her for. Next, she unhooks the garters from her white stockings, one by one. She can hear the band from here, Rose realizes, though the song is unfamiliar. She hadn’t noticed before.

When it comes time to remove her corset, Rose sucks in a breath, and pulls open the busk. Today, it feels so good to be free from it that she might cry. Without the stiff boning, it’s easier to take off her blue shoes, and to remove her stockings. The shoes are left behind on the floor, but Rose takes the silky garments and soft blue skirt from the floor, and sets them over the back of her chair.

She steps back, then, and undoes the buttons of her combination. She remembers the day she bought it-- in Paris, not so long ago. Rose had escaped her mother for a few hours, having gone with Trudy to purchase some new undergarments. She’d seen this set, and immediately been entranced with how pretty it was-- made of ivory silk and trimmed in lace, with deep blue ribbons around the waist and legs, and knotted in a tiny bow between her breasts. It was quite her favorite pair, and it too is laid aside once she’s out of it. Rose goes to retrieve her dressing gown from the wardrobe, and slips the dark, silky fabric over her shoulders.

 _“Jack, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls." Rose says. She stands next to him, peering over his shoulder at the way he holds the stone, blue flecks of light landing on his hands, jaw set as he concentrates. Jack turns the stone over in his hands, studying the way the light catches it._ **_I don’t even know how much it’s worth,_ ** _Rose realizes. Jack didn’t either, but he could guess, she was sure._ **_He could live on the cost of this for the rest of his life._ **

_When Cal gave it to her, he’d shared the history-- it was worn by Louis XVI until he died. He’d been fascinated by it, too. After all, it must have cost a fortune._ **_It’s for royalty,_ ** _his voice echoed in her ear. If anything, Jack is just as entranced, his eyes memorizing the facets and shine. Cal would never see her wear this, though, and if he was willing, Jack would. He doesn’t even look up at her words, though. Rose isn’t even sure he’s heard her. So she looks from the stone to him and back again, her chin tipped up, and specifies, "Wearing this.”_

Rose took a seat at her vanity. On it lies the Heart of the Ocean, glimmering up at her. It’s the first time she can look at it without feeling ill.

It’s cold, when she touches it. She carefully threads the strand around her neck, under her hair. _I hope the chain doesn’t snag,_ Rose frowned as she closed the clasp of the necklace in front of her. She pulls it into the right position between her breasts without a hitch. It lies icily against her chest, but tonight, the stone doesn’t choke her. It’s an instrument of her freedom.

_“Alright.” Jack answers. He’s said it blindly, not looking at her. He hasn’t properly heard what she’s saying, what Rose wants him to do. The necklace is distracting, alright. She knows he’s answered more because he doesn’t want to seem rude than because he was paying attention. If she’s going to get what she wants, Rose will have to spell it out for him._

_She pinches her lips, eyes half lidded as she looks from the stone to Jack. “Wearing_ **_only_ ** _this,”_

_And it’s then that he sees._

She reaches up and pulls the butterfly comb from her hair. It was a gift from her father, on her fifteenth birthday. They’d had their differences, but Rose still adored him, even after everything that had happened. She shakes her auburn locks loose, and sets the comb down on the dresser. Heat warms her stomach when she thinks of how Jack will look at her when he sees her-- bare, hair loose, warm and open. She almost walks from her room then and there. He’s doubtless been waiting on her for a few minutes. 

There was only one thing left-- just one more way to stall. 

Rose eyes the engagement ring on her finger, twisting it. It’s heavy, made of pure gold and set with three large diamonds. It’s never felt right on her hand, never more so than now. Why should she wear it when she doesn’t love Cal? When she loves Jack?

She takes it off. It’s left behind on her dresser as she rises and makes for her bedroom door, and pulls it open.

Jack looked up when she walked into the room. He always did. He always noticed when she was there. Playfully, she twirls the tassel of her dressing gown. "The last thing I need is another picture of me looking like a porcelain doll," Rose holds up a single dime as an offering, advancing on him. "As a paying customer," When she drops the dime into his lap, it makes Jack smile. "I expect to get what I want."

Rose steps back, and, trying not to be shy, let the robe slip off her figure. Then she’s naked. She's naked, and Jack is looking at her. He can't seem to take his eyes off her for a dragging moment. Rose fights the urge to blush, to cover up. A shiver runs down her spine.

When Jack realizes how long it's been, he shifts his gaze to her face. He looks nervous-- he has his jaw clenched as he looks from her to the sofa. "Over on the bed-- the couch." Jack corrects himself, flustered and gesturing in the object's general direction. Rose goes to sit on it, and reclines backwards on it, so she looks more at rest. "Good. Lie down," He says.

“Tell me when it looks right,” She says, moving awkwardly, trying not to part her legs and give him that much more of an eyeful.

“Put your arm back the way it was," He says at first. Jack goes on instructing her on how best to sit, with her arms by her head, a hand by her face, "Alright. Now, head down," Jack instructs. She does as he says, and keeps her head pressed into the pillow. "Eyes to me, keep them on me. And… try to stay still,"

He looked so nervous, even though he'd drawn plenty of other naked women. So uneasy. Jack gave a heavy sigh looking at her, adjusted his folder on his lap, and got to work.

Rose feels his eyes on her when she lies there, letting him draw her. Jack's stare always had a weight to it-- a feeling when his eyes were on her that she could almost touch, like fire. It spoke of the attention he paid her. Now, his stare felt different, more professional. Still, it made Rose tingle all over her body, from her ears through her belly and all the way down to her toes.

Rose doesn’t have it in her to be bashful now, to cover up. She’s not sure she’d want to. It’s odd, the way she feels utterly calm around Jack, unperturbed at even _this_. Rose doesn’t feel like he’s ogling her, or like she’s on display. She’s… comfortable… with him. Even naked.

The Heart of the Ocean is an icy, heavy weight on her chest. Underneath it, her own heart is pounding.

"So serious," She teases him. He was utterly absorbed in his work, not thinking of anything else. Even her comment barely warrants a glance, but it earns her a wry smirk before Jack looks back at the page. Rose watches the way he draws, the way he watches her, blue eyes darting back and forth between the paper and her, looking through the strands of hair fallen into his eyes. It endears him to her only further.

Jack crosses his legs shyly. Rose tries to hide her smile-- she can guess what’s got him suddenly uncomfortable with this. Then, she sees where his eyes are, studying intently. They’re on her breasts, at her dusky nipples, and the soft curve of her hip. Rose feels them on her navel, and they flit briefly down to the thatch of red between her legs. His eyes quickly travel upward again. Still, she doesn’t mind, and is instead feeling rather playful. 

“I believe you are blushing, Mister Big Artiste,” Rose teases. Indeed, a rosy blush has bloomed over his neck, and has traveled upward to grace his cheeks. It only deepens at her notice, but if anything, Jack focuses more on the paper. _Impressive,_ Rose thinks wryly. _And I thought all his blood was going south._ “I can’t imagine Monsieur Monet blushing,” She tries again, unable to keep her smile to herself this time. 

Jack’s eyes flit upward to her face, mildly irked, but still amused. “He does _landscapes,_ ” Jack reminds her. _Ah, so that’s his excuse. Landscapes and bodies are entirely different, yes, I understand._ "Just relax your face," He instructed.

"Sorry,"

"No laughing," Jack insists. Rose sighed, keeping her head down like he'd told her to earlier. 

Her dreaming gets away from her, while she poses. Rose thinks of the way his hands brush at her body on the paper, and instead imagines that they're on _her_. She thinks of the way his eyes study her form, and tries to imagine what he's thinking-- what he'd like to do to her. How might Jack touch her, if he could? Such thoughts have left Rose damp between her legs, but if her artist notices, he doesn't say.

Jack lets her know when he's done, and she rises from her position on the couch. Her motions must surely look awkward, as she tries not to be bawdy and part her legs while she moves. Rose feels him watching her as she goes over to pick up her dressing gown off the floor and slip it back over her shoulders. By the time she's got it on and is turned towards him again, he's looking at her drawing again.

Rose spied over his shoulder as he signed his initials and the date on the portrait. It was as beautiful as his other drawings-- he hadn't disappointed her at all. It would do just fine for what she intended.

Jack looked at it once more, blew off some tiny specks of remaining charcoal, and closed the folder, holding it up to her with a playful smile. "Thank you," Rose whispers, putting her hand on the edge to take it. She leans in to kiss him again, and does. Though Jack doesn't seem to want to let go of the drawing-- he fights her for it when she tries to pull it from him. Rose doesn't break the kiss, just laughs through it.

He seems so attached to it that when she finally does wrest the drawing from him, she's half tempted to tell him that she'll let him draw another-- as many as he likes-- when the ship docks. 

She writes her letter in silence, save for when Jack comes by to ask what she’s doing. Rose passes him the Heart of the Ocean, back in its box and has him put it away as she finishes. She thinks this will get her point across quite nicely. 

_Darling, now you can keep us both locked in your safe. Rose_

Rose doesn't have any intention of getting off with Cal and her mother anymore. She can't-- won't-- marry Cal. When the boat docked, she would be getting off with Jack. When the boat docked, she would be free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disaster is coming.
> 
> You should have noticed the additional scenes if you aren't new here. Feel Free to comment, bookmark, leave Kudos. Feedback would be really awesome.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two as promised. More notes at the end.

Jack reaches for her hand, pulling her to a stop in the boiler room with him, breathless, with a heady, sweltry look in his eyes that she can’t resist. It was so hot down here, she was already sweating, and her heart was pounding. Rose didn’t know what it was from, if it was the running, or the boiler room, or Jack. In truth, she could tell it was all three.

He takes her other hand, his blue eyes dark with desire again. Rose knew the feeling well, because she burned with it too. She burned hotter than all these boilers and hotter than the sun, too. Without even a whisper of a word, she knew what Jack wanted. Rose wants it too-- she has become a creature of wanting and desire in his arms.

Jack tugs her nearer to him, his face hovering just above hers, so close she can feel his breaths on her skin. If Rose could open her chest, she’d pull Jack inside and keep him there, warming her heart. They wouldn’t ever have to be apart. Remorseless in his affections, he captures her mouth with his. Jack holds her tight against him, a hand cupped tight under her jaw, thumb under her chin. Rose’s hands roam across his back in her ardour, through his hair, over his shoulders and his neck. He pulls all the air from her lungs before he goes to suck on her neck, but even still she can’t breathe, can’t think. Only want more. This isn’t enough, not yet. She’s not sure she’ll ever have enough of him. 

They burn together in the back of the boiler room, in each other’s arms, till the room can no longer contain their passion. And then they go find somewhere else to burn.

* * *

“Where to, Miss?” Jack questions in the driving seat of the car, with a faux English accent. 

She leant forward, close to his head. “To the stars,” Rose whispered with a smile, thoughts of mischief stirring in her head. Jack curiously twisted his head to look back at her. Before he knows it, she’s hooked her arms under his and is pulling him into the back seat with her. Rose pulls him back with her entire body, but he goes willingly with a grin on his face, pushing himself back with his feet.

Jack and her sit there in the quiet, with his arms around her, his hand and hers joined in intimate caresses, fingers and palm brushing over and against one another in a soundless dance. They’re as close as they were on the bow of the ship, but all Rose can think of is getting closer.

“Are you nervous?” He wonders so innocently. 

Maybe she should be. In the back of a car, alone with a boy she’s known all of three days. She should feel nervous. She should feel like this is dangerous.

She doesn’t. She tells him so. “No,” Rose answers, shaking her head.

_ “What made you think you could put your hands on my fiancé?” _ Cal had asked that night.

But Jack had never hurt her. Not once, and he never would. He’d never touched her in any way she hadn’t wanted. He’d never made her feel like she wasn’t safe. He saw her. They were two parts of a whole. Alike. She could talk to him, and trust him with parts of herself that she couldn’t ever trust with Cal. 

And here she was. In the back of a car, alone with a boy she’s known all of three days. Rose wasn’t nervous. She’s never felt safer. In the back of a car, alone with Jack. Warm, wrapped up in his arms, loved. 

Rose knew what she wanted, as she thought of his eyes on her when he drew her, tracing the curves of her body onto the paper with charcoal. Thought of his sweet pink blush. Rose wanted to feel more of his skin, the lines and bones and muscles of him under her hands. She wanted to be able to memorize him, to capture Jack in her mind forever. She wanted to be able to feel him when he wasn’t there, picture his image under her eyelids the way he could no doubt see her nude form lying on that couch whenever he thought of it. And she wanted him to know her the same. 

One by one, Rose kisses his fingers. Her clothes are stuck to her with sweat. Deafening silence filled the room. Jack looks on her in that silence, like he can’t tell what she’s about to do. Like he didn’t know the second she pulled him back here. “Put your hands on me, Jack,” She says. Rose took his hand in hers and pulled it down to cover her soft breast.

The next thing she knew, Jack was kissing her, firm, but still gentle. Rose’s back touches the seat, half being pushed there and half pulling him down with her. Jack’s body slides on top of hers, their kisses growing heated, mouths urgent against each other. She doesn’t care that her lungs burn for air, just keeps on kissing him. Rose doesn't know how to do anything else.

First she pushes off his jacket. Jack shrugged out of his suspenders, panting between kisses. His hand slides from her breast around to her back, tugging at the buttons on her dress. She takes a moment to be grateful that there’s no corset for him to struggle with-- it will make this all the easier. One by one, she undoes the buttons on his shirt, pulling it out of his trousers and eventually off his arms until he is bare-chested in front of her. Rose shimmies out of her silken dress, then pulls her chemise off over her head. Both of them land forgotten on the floor of the car, next to Jack's coat and shirt.

Jack kisses his way down her chest, lingering at her breasts with more kisses. He’s very attentive there-- his tongue circles the pink areolas of her nipples in ways that make her gasp and pull at his hair. Carefully, Jack pulls down her drawers, fondling the heat between her legs. Rose is worked breathless by those hands, turned from a girl into a moaning, gasping heap of bones. His hands are as skilled with her under them as they are holding paper and charcoal-- they can just as easily make her come apart as they can render artwork.

Jack manages to kick off his shoes, as does she. Rose unbuttons his trousers and pulls them low on his hips, till she can’t reach anymore, and then he pulls them the rest of the way off, along with his underwear. 

Now they’re both naked, and he looks at her that way. Like he's about to call her beautiful, or wants to draw her, or in this case, to put his hands on her, like he thinks she's perfect, his muse, beautiful. Rose sees the love Jack holds for her in his wondrous blue eyes.  _ You’re sure? _ He seems to ask her then. That’s what Jack seems to be thinking, anyway.  _ Does she really want me? _

She does. Rose answers Jack with a kiss instead of words. He is beautiful, too. Still half a boy the same way she is still half a girl, but they’ll grow together. She hadn’t thought it was possible for a man to be beautiful, but Jack is in every sense of the word. Handsome, comely, yes, those too. But by all the gods, he is more beautiful than any other thing,  _ man _ , Rose has ever laid eyes on. Rose tugs him up to her, closer, hands on his back. Her thighs part around his hips. Jack’s member is there, hard and nudging at the dampness between her thighs, making her whimper even though nothing has happened yet. Jack braces his hands on either side of Rose. With a breath, he pushes inside of her.

It hurts at first, it’s a sort of burning pain as she is stretched wide around him. Rose’s face contorts not of her own volition-- her expression must be something akin to the face she made at that party when she stood on her toes like a ballerina. This is an entirely different sort of pain, though. Jack goes still under her hands, and doesn’t move. He looks up at her almost like he’s scared, or afraid he’s hurt her. His hand brushes against her cheek, the corner of her eye, pushing back sweaty strands of red hair. “Are you alright?” He breathes, heart pounding against hers. Jack’s eyes search her face.

Rose lays her head back against the seat, breathing for a few moments. She shifts her hips under him a little, bracing herself better with a hand on his hip and one between his shoulder blades. She swallows her pain, and nods, with a little gasping breath. Rose didn’t want this to stop, and she can feel the pain already ebbing away. “I’m alright.” Rose tells him, though he doesn’t look entirely convinced. “I’ll be fine. You can move, Jack…” She presses into his skin with her hands, urging him onward. Jack offers her a soft kiss, and slowly starts to move.

Minute after minute, the hurt lessens, and turns to pleasure. They move together, slowly at first. Their hips rock in gentle tandem, like the tides, rising and falling as one. Heat coils in her core, building. As one, the pace of their movements quicken, shaking the car and steaming the windows. Toe-curling pleasure ripples through Rose's body in waves.

They try to be quiet-- keeping their moans hushed and whispering their names to one another between kisses. Her stomach quivered under his deft touch, excited by the calluses on his hands. Jack’s hands aren’t soft, they are hands that have worked, artist’s hands, and they are the only ones that belong on her. At last Rose falls over the edge, with stars exploding behind her eyes, riding out the waves of her pleasure with her mouth open in a silent scream. Her hand flies up, searching for purchase, but all she finds is the slick surface of the window. Her fingers flex on the damp, slippery glass, and then her hand slides back down to them.

Jack thrusts into her a few more times, and then follows her with a climax of his own. He releases inside her, his release leaving a warm and pleasant feeling inside her. His fingers will leave bruises on her hips where they have pressed into her, and tomorrow she will have red sores on her neck from where his lips have mapped her. It's hard for Rose to find it in herself to care, much less to regret it, because she doesn't.

She looks up at Jack. He’s tired and coated in sweat, visibly exhausted. His hair is damp from their exertions, and flops down till it just hangs over his eyes. Rose doubts he can see her properly through it. “You’re trembling,” She whispers. He’s damp and shaking against her, like some newborn animal. Rose is sure she is, too. Jack was obviously more experienced in this area than her, like he was in so many others, but if she had to guess, he wasn't incredibly well-versed either.

“Don’t worry,” Jack answers her with a breathless voice. “I’ll be alright,” He assures her. Jack offers her another kiss, which she takes gladly. When he lifts his head again, she presses her lips to his forehead, and lays his head against her chest. Rose combs her fingers through his damp hair. Her lower half is still pulsing, and he is still inside her. Jack hasn’t bothered to remove himself yet, but Rose is content to keep him where he is. Her thighs are sticky with her own fluids mixed with Jack's issue, leaking out of her to dry on the seat. She’s too exhausted to worry about anything outside of this car, about consequences, or the men looking for them. Too exhausted to care about what her mother and Cal would think or do.

She’s in a car. She’s with Jack. Nothing outside of that matters. Nothing outside of that exists at all.

* * *

“Did you see those guys’ faces?” Jack laughs, pulling her around to face him. “Did you see…” Rose presses a gentle hand to his lips when she was in arm’s reach. Jack fell silent before her. She could hardly breathe around him. She could hardly think. But for the first time in her life, that was alright… it was alright. She’s never felt this way before, never felt such all consuming happiness. She’s never been able to talk to someone like she can with Jack, never been able to be with someone like she can Jack. They’re partners… they go together, work well together. Rose was right earlier-- them, together. It was the most perfect thing in the world.

Her fingers pull through his soft hair, and Jack’s hands are on her waist. “When this ship docks, I’m getting off with you,” Rose swears. She’s breathless with her joy, and doesn’t care. It’s a promise she intends to keep with every beat of her heart. She won’t go with her Mother… she won’t marry Cal. She’s going with Jack. She’s going to Santa Monica with him, to learn to ride like a man, in the surf. She’ll finally become that artist, poor but free. She’s never been this happy before, not with anyone, and she won’t give it up.

Jack beams down at her. “This is crazy,” He smiles, eyes shining.

“I know. It doesn’t make any sense,” Rose can hardly believe it herself, as she laughs, shaking her head. “That’s why I trust it,”

Jack stares at her so hard that for a moment she thinks he might burn a hole right through her head. The air between them is charged, and she finds it irresistible. Rose pulls his head down to hers; first it’s one kiss, then it’s two, and three, and it’s never ending. She could stand there kissing him forever-- nothing on earth would come between them.

* * *

“Here we go.” Rose sighed, tossing a glance to Jack at her side. Mother and Cal would be furious with her for having run off with Jack. She hoped, though, that they’d be able to see past it. Hoped that the ship hitting an iceberg was enough to get them to come to their senses, and see that whatever she had with Jack was not worth worrying over. Rose tries to push past the pounding of her heart and focus on the feel of Jack’s hand in hers. He offers a comforting squeeze as they enter her stateroom together.

She’s not sure what she expected to find, coming back to her rooms after midnight, but it wasn’t this. Mother is pacing the floor in a floral dressing gown, with a drink in her hand. Cal stands across the room smoking a Cigarette and looking quite dour-- if there’s one thing Rose knew for sure, it was that he was furious with her. There’s no less than four crewmen in here with them.  _ What are so many people doing here so late? _ Rose wonders. All of them look up as her and Jack enter. She swallows. If looks could kill… well, her and Jack would be dead right now. Lovejoy closes the door behind them.

“Something serious has happened,” She announces. Rose brings her other hand to where hers and Jack’s are entwined. She’s not sorry in the least about what’s happened tonight-- not about having Jack draw her, or running off with him, or asking him to put his hands on her. No matter what Cal or Mother think, Rose won’t let them try to keep her and Jack apart now, whether they liked it or not. The iceberg hadn’t changed her plans. When-- if-- the ship docks, she was still going with Jack.

“Yes it has,” Cal replies, voice stern. His eyes flit to Lovejoy so fast Rose thinks she’s imagined it, then back to Ruth and the Master at Arms with a haughty expression. “Indeed. Two things dear to me have disappeared this evening. Now that one is back, I have a pretty good idea of where to find the other,” He says, looking pointedly at her and Jack. “Search him.” Says Cal, nodding at him. Rose looks at Jack, only he seems just as confused as she is, and even less thrilled at having to be searched for God knows what.

“Take your coat off, sir,” The steward said, advancing on Jack. They push him away from her by a step or two, tugging at his clothes. Rose looks from Jack to Cal.  _ What is he doing? Why now? _ Surely this was all his doing. But she would feel better if she could understand what was happening.

“Come on, sir,” Another insists, already pulling off Jack’s coat for him. 

_ “Now _ what?” Jack complained with an irritated expression. But the crewmen only continue to pat him down, searching for something. They’re checking his pockets, his coat, like they think he’s got something hidden on his person.  _ What are they looking for?  _ She wonders. But Rose can’t come up with anything.

“Cal, What’re you doing?” Rose demands.  _ This isn’t the time for such things, we should be getting into lifeboats, _ She thinks. “We’re in the middle of an emergency, what’s going on?” Surely Cal couldn’t be so petty to demand useless search at a time like this? What could he possibly want with Jack that didn’t have to do with his involvement in her life?

It’s then that she sees the steward pulling something long and silvery from Jack’s coat pocket. It shimmers in the light of the room, but Rose doesn’t recognize it at first, not until she notices the heavy blue stone at the end of the chain. Her heart catches in her throat. The Heart of the Ocean. “Is this it?”

“That’s it,” Can answered, reaching out and taking it from the steward.

“This is  _ horseshit!” _ Jack exclaims, eyes wide at the stone. He turns to her as the stewards turn and step away, with a look of half desperation and half anger. “Don’t you believe it, Rose. Don’t!”

“He couldn’t have,” Rose said, her voice soft.  _ He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t have. Surely I’d have noticed if it were in his pocket the whole time? I’d have noticed if he had it while we were in the car. _ She won’t believe them, that he did this. Could he have, though?

“Of course he could. It’s easy enough for a professional,” Cal says, but that’s not true, Rose  _ knows _ it’s not. Yes, Jack was poor, but he wasn’t a thief. With no parents at fifteen, she’d be surprised if he’d ever stolen anything more than food. She hears the click of the master at arms putting cuffs around Jack’s wrists.

“But I was with him the whole time, this is absurd,” Rose insists.  _ Jack wouldn’t steal from me. He knows I hate that necklace. _ He wouldn’t have a proper use for that much money anyways-- Jack lived off his drawings, traveling around. He didn’t need a big house somewhere or fine clothes. The only things he’d use it on would be food and maybe a warm place to sleep. He didn’t even have a proper place to keep money like that, and someone like him could get arrested for being seen with so much money.

Cal walks around behind her and in a low voice says, “Perhaps he did it while you were putting your clothes back  _ on _ , dear.”

_ Jack appears over her shoulder as she writes, as if from nowhere. In reality, he’s spent the last few minutes cleaning up his drawing supplies and rearranging the room."Whatcha doin'?" He asks, resting a hand on the chair at his side. _

_ It doesn’t concern him-- not yet at least. Rose will tell him soon enough. "Will you put this back in the safe for me?" She asks, passing him the box containing the Heart of the Ocean. She was glad to have it off. It would go back into Cal’s safe where it belongs, with the drawing and her letter. _

_ "Mhmm." Jack hums, taking the box from her and walking into the next room to put it away. Before he can return, she finishes her letter and closes her door to dress. _

Bile churns in Rose’s stomach. How long had it taken her to dress? Ten minutes? Fifteen? Long enough for him to pocket the necklace without her noticing. She hadn’t even checked the box when she put the drawing and note in there. Jack realizes something as he looks at Cal, his blue eyes gone wide. “Real slick, Cal,” He says quietly. Jack turns to her and whispers, “Rose, they put it in my pocket,”

“Shut up!”

“But it isn’t your pocket, is it, son?” Lovejoy says, standing next to the master at arms with Jack’s coat in his hand. “Property of A.L. Ryerson,” He read from the tag on the coat, with a faint smirk.

The master at arms sighed, looking at the coat heavily. “That  _ was _ reported stolen today.” He says. Rose doesn’t want to believe this. He wouldn’t have taken it. He could have.  _ He could have. _

Jack’s eyes flutter shut at Lovejoy’s words-- they were right. He had stolen before. If he’d taken a coat, who’s to say that he wouldn’t take something else? Jack looks like he might be ill at the thought of the stolen coat-- the one he’d kissed her in, the one he’d wrapped her in after making love. Rose feels like she might be sick, too. “I just borrowed it, I was gonna return it,” Jack insisted as he turned to her. How can he be so sure that she’ll believe him? Rose wishes she could take away the look he’s giving her, pleading for her to take his word.  _ I want to believe him, I want to believe him. I can’t believe him... _

“Oh, an honest thief,” Cal snickered. “We have an honest thief, here, do we?”  _ I want to. I can’t. I want to. I can’t... _

“You know I didn’t do this, Rose,” Jack whispers, leaning towards her even as the crewmen pull him away. “You know it. Don’t you believe them, Rose. You know it.” Her eyes burn with tears.  _ I can’t, I can’t.  _ She feels Mother at her side where Jack was what feels like seconds ago. The farther apart they take him, the louder he gets. “You know I didn’t do it, Rose!”

Rose wishes she didn’t have to hear the way he shouts for her. She can’t bear the pain in his eyes as they drag him out the door, can’t bear the look he gives her when he sees that she doesn’t believe him. But she can’t take her eyes away, and even as he disappears from her sight, Jack still cries her name. “You know I didn’t do it! Rose!  _ Rose! _ You know I didn’t do it!  _ You know me!” _

* * *

"Will the lifeboats be seated according to class?" Her mother called to the officers, to which none answered. She looked back at Rose and laughed, "I hope they're not too crowded,"

_ How can she ask that? How can she even think it when so many are about to die?  _ She's never been more disgusted by her Mother than she is now. "Oh, Mother. Shut up!" Rose snaps. Mother's eyes widen in shock at her, surprised that she's spoken to her so directly. Rose took her by the shoulders. "Don't you understand? The water is freezing, and there's not enough boats. Not enough by half." Rose leans in, and in a softer voice said, "Half the people on this ship are going to die,"

"Not the better half," Cal retorted with a face like stone. Rose has half a mind to yell at him, too, but it won't do any good.

Molly Brown’s voice is there all of a sudden, calling for her mother to get into the boat. It was as if she could sense a fight was about to start. Molly helps her in, talking about ‘First class seats’ though she knows just as much as Rose that the thought of first class seats on a lifeboat was horseshit. Rose knows it’s silly, but she’s not sure if she’s glad they were interrupted or not, even if no amount of yelling would make her mother see sense.

"You know it's a pity I didn't keep that drawing," Cal said snidely, an eyebrow cocked in her direction, when her mother is safely on board and not paying attention to them. "It'll be worth a lot more by morning," He snorted.

There's so much going on that Rose doesn't immediately remember what drawing he's talking about-- but then she does. Cal's talking about the drawing of her, the one that  _ Jack _ drew. The master at arms had taken him away, and he'd be stuck somewhere on the ship. Jack would go down with the ship if someone didn't help him.

The way he'd called at her when he was taken from her came to mind, as he insisted he didn't do it, that Rose shouldn't believe it.  _ How could I ever have trusted Cal's word?  _ She doesn't have time to be mad at herself with the ship going down, though. She's got to save Jack. "You unimaginable bastard," Rose sneers at Cal.  _ Jack never did take it,  _ Rose realizes.  _ Cal's letting him die because of a grudge. _ She's mad enough that she could hit him. Cal turns away.

From below, Molly calls for her, "Come on, Rose darlin'. There's plenty of room for you," She insists, holding out a hand. "Come on, Rose. You're next, darlin',"

"Come into the boat, Rose," Mother says in a soft voice, holding her hand out over a lifejacket on the edge of the boat.

"Come," Cal tells her, his hand out, too.

Rose hesitates.

"Rose," Her mother scolds in a quiet voice, because she's making a scene, "Get into the boat. Rose,"

She breathes, not moving. It's not even a choice, really. She already knows what she's going to do.  _ I won't be one of them,  _ she knew.  _ I won't let Jack die.  _ Rose would rather die knowing that she'd tried to save Jack than live with the knowledge that she didn't. And she was the only one who was going to save him. If Mother thought it was acceptable for people to die because they weren't of high status, then to hell with her. To hell with Cal. To hell with their engagement, and first class life. If this was what it meant to be a person of high class, Rose didn't want it. "Goodbye, Mother," She bids her, and turns away.

In distress, Mother cried her name again, but she just kept walking away. "Rose, come back here!"

"Where are you going?!" Cal demands, roughly grabbing Rose's arm and making her face him. Her heart is pounding, but she's not afraid this time, she's angry. "To  _ him?"  _ He asks in disbelief. "What, to be a  _ whore _ to a gutter rat?"

Rose doesn't even hesitate this time. This time, Rose isn't afraid to tell him exactly what she thinks. "I'd rather be his whore than your wife," She says, and that shocks Cal so much that his grip on her loosens enough that she can twist free and start to run again.

Cal won't let her go-- he tries to grab her again, keep her from saving Jack. "No!  _ I said no!" _ He shouts, tightening his hold and trying to pull her back. Rose won't have it, but on her own, she's not strong enough to fight him off.

Rose turned and spat in his face, just like Jack taught her. It hits Cal right in the eye, and she doesn't waste the opportunity, breaking away from his arms and sprinting down the deck and away from them. Her mother is shrieking her name behind her, wailing, but Rose doesn't care. She's running now, like she was the night she met Jack. But she doesn't belong to her mother or Cal anymore. This time, when she runs, it's not away from something, it's toward it.

* * *

“It’s goodbye for a little while,” The man says, his voice hoarse with emotion. His daughters don’t believe him, with tears shining on their little faces and wailing for him to get into the lifeboat with them. If he didn’t go with them, he’d die here.  _ God, half the people on this ship are already dead.  _ “Only for a little while. There’ll be another boat for the daddies, this boat’s for the mummies and the children. You hold Mummy’s hand and be a good little girl--”

Nerves roil ominously in her stomach. Leaving now didn’t feel right, it felt horribly, horribly wrong, wrong in every way a thing can be wrong. “I’m not going without you,” Rose turned to Jack and said. How could she? How could she leave now when she…  _ I don’t know what.  _ But leaving Jack was wrong. Maybe she’d die if she stayed here, maybe a lot of other people wouldn’t get the chance she had now, but… she couldn’t leave yet.

Jack doesn’t like the idea of her staying on this ship at all. “No, you have to go,” He insisted, practically pushing her away.  _ “Now.” _

“No, Jack.” Rose says. Her eyes burn.

“Get in the boat, Rose.” He demands. He’s never  _ demanded _ a thing from her before, the way mother or Cal might, but now, he does. Jack looks at her with such a ferocity that Rose thinks she might break under the force of it, his eyes turned hard and unyielding.

Shaking her head, she says it again.  _ I can’t do it. I can’t.  _ “No, Jack,”

“Yes,” He repeats. Jack doesn’t have any intention of backing down on this-- that’s not who he was. It was good, then, that she was just as stubborn. “Get on the boat,” He says, shoving her back towards the lifeboat. Rose holds onto him even tighter.

“Yes,  _ get  _ on the boat, Rose,” Comes Cal’s voice as if out of nowhere. He stands behind Jack, looking a deal more haggard than he had been when she last saw him-- no doubt worried about being unable to crawl his way off a sinking ship that wouldn’t let men into the lifeboats. A part of her is surprised he’s still here-- that he hasn’t weaseled his way out of this yet. She’s never met a man more invested in his own survival. “My god, look at you,” He breathes, sounding relieved to see her. “You look a fright! Here, put this on,” Cal says, stripping her of the plaid blanket she’d been given belowdecks. He shoves it into Jack’s arms and immediately puts his own heavy woolen overcoat in its place. Jack looks like he’s half a mind to say something rude to him, but decided against it-- Cal may be scum, but his coat was nice, and better suited to the cold than a threadbare blanket. “Come,”

Her fiancé-- ex-fiancé’s hand rests on her head, heavy and warm, meant to be affectionate, brushing over her hair. It’s then that Jack pushes his way between them. “Go on,” He pleads. “I’ll get the next one.”

_ “No,” _ Rose insists. “Not without you,”  _ You jump, I jump,  _ His words echo.  _ I can’t leave without knowing you’ll be alright. I can’t leave him. I won’t. _

“I’ll be alright,” Jack says. He’s determined, she doesn’t doubt that, but she can’t leave now, can’t leave and wait, not  _ knowing… _ “Listen. I’ll be fine. I’m a survivor, alright? Don’t worry about me. Now go on, get on.”

“I have an arrangement with an officer on the other side of the ship,” Cal interjects, looking like he might be ill. His jaw is clenched in a manner that looks painful-- Rose can tell he loathes speaking up right now. “Jack and I can get off safely. Both of us.” He says, looking hard at Jack.  _ They hate each other.  _ She thought. That was nothing new.  _ But maybe Cal hates the thought of me dying more than he hates Jack. _

Jack tightens his jaw, making a decision. When he speaks, he sounds a little less desperate than he had just a moment ago. “See?” He says, like his confidence proves something. “I’ve got my own boat to catch,” Rose doesn’t trust Cal, though. After what he’s done in the past day, how can she possibly believe that he’ll  _ choose  _ to save his competition?

“Go, go on, hurry,” Cal says, doing his best to look a bit teary and nodding in the direction of the lifeboat with a weak smile. “They’re almost full.” 

“Step aboard, Miss,” The officer demands, grabbing her roughly, “Step aboard, Please.”

Jack whispers “Go,” in her ear once more as the officer pulls her away, lifting her towards the lifeboat. Rose wants to believe Cal when he says that he’ll help Jack. She wants to believe that Jack will be fine, and will make it out of this without her. She can’t believe it.  _ I can’t leave without him, _ She thinks, clinging tight to his hand. She doesn’t trust Cal to help Jack. There is chaos all around them, so many hurried goodbyes.  _ How can this be our goodbye? _

Rose can feel it in the depths of her soul that going on the lifeboat is wrong. It’s wrong to leave Jack behind. It’s wrong to be separated from him, even if it will keep her safe. No, the only  _ right _ way to get off this ship was together, and any way other than that was wrong. Jack helps her into the lifeboat with the officer as gently as he can, his hand in hers. Rose isn’t sure if she does it in fear or despair or both, but she reaches back for his hand again as soon as she’s in the boat. He clutches tight to it-- she doesn’t think they could let go even if they wanted to. She keeps hold of Jack’s hand as long as she can, until the officer shoves him back so they can begin lowering. 

The boat goes down.

Jack doesn’t want to be parted from her any more than she does, that much is obvious, as he stands at the railing watching her descent. Rose can’t help but feel how wrong this is. It seems that’s all she can feel.

Discreetly, without moving his eyes, Cal says something to Jack. She can’t hear any of it over the other people, but Jack glances at him, and answers with a few words. It looks like he’s asked a question. When Cal responds, finally looking at Jack, Rose sees an even deeper fear on his face, some sort of cutting realization. The face Jack makes when he looks down at her again is grave. He’s afraid now, for the first time. She can see it clearly on his face. He’s just as afraid as her.

The boat keeps dropping.

Her memories of him fly before her eyes like they would in a theater. His smile. The way his hand felt in hers. His voice as he sang to her. The beat of his heart and the warmth of his skin. Jack’s lips. The way his eyes watched her when he drew her, and that sweet pink blush that graced his cheeks. The warmth of his body, and the taste of his kiss. And for the second time today, she thinks of how nothing else in the world feels as right as that, as his arms around her.

Jack nods once at her, as if to assure her that this is the best choice. But it’s wrong and they both know it. All around her are crying women and children, who will never see so much of their family again. She doesn’t want to be one of them.

Farther down they go, farther away from him.

Jack’s got tears in his eyes. He’s so sad, so beautiful, then, swallowing and fighting off his emotions. That’s when she realizes-- Jack doesn’t think he’ll survive. He doesn’t think he’s going to get off the  _ Titanic _ alive. This could be the last time she ever sees him. Rose might never hear his voice again, never feel his hands again, never see his face again. When he looks at her, she knows that Jack is thinking exactly what she is. She doesn’t know how, but she knows. She can see it in his eyes, the way Rose knows he can see the same in her’s.  _ I won’t make it. I won’t see her again. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. _

Golden sparks from a firework explode behind Jack, in a shower of light. The wind flutters his blond hair, and his eyes are sad in a way that aches her heart. And she thinks,  _ He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. _

She could stay in the boat. She could be safe. She could let this be the last time she ever sees Jack. The last image of him she is left with. If Rose lets it be, she’d never have told him in no uncertain terms how she feels. They both know-- she just wants to say it, like she should. She doesn’t want to wait safely in her boat, not knowing what happened to him.

Together was the only right answer. She wouldn’t let this be their last. If they made it off  _ Titanic _ , it had to be together. And if they died, it would be together too. She wouldn’t have it any differently.

Rose can’t sit here any longer.

“Rose!” Jack shouts, already seeing her move. She doesn’t look up, all she can think of is getting off the lifeboat and back to him. Rose leaps from the boat across the gap to the railing, where the hands of people still on board pull her to safety. Onto a sinking ship.

“Stop her!” Cal cries above her.

Again she hears Jack’s voice. “Rose, what’re you doing?! No!” Cal demands for them to stop her again, but it’s too late. She’s already on board and she won’t go back. Maybe she’s mad. But this is the first thing Rose has been sure of since the iceberg hit, and she won’t regret it. She knows it’s right.

She’s running, and running, as fast as she was the night she met Jack, trying to kill herself. Maybe she’s killed herself with this choice, too, when she just realized she wanted to live. But Rose doesn’t care. All she can think of is finding Jack. She goes to the grand staircase, and he’s there, just as breathless as she is. He’s run there to meet her all the way from the railing, as she knew he would. “Rose!” He cries her name, half desperation, half relief, and entirely love. Jack pulls her close, crushing the air from her lungs. She’s crying, and he’s calling her stupid and asking her why she did it and kissing her till she can’t breathe.

The only thing she can make herself say in an answer is, “You jump, I jump. Right?”

Jack’s face splits into a grin. Her hand brushes over his cheek. His blue eyes are still damp with tears, and he looks like he can’t believe what she just said. “Right,” He laughs, kissing her again. 

Rose tells him that she couldn’t go, over and over again, breathless and kissing him still. She couldn’t go. Jack promises it’ll be alright, and they’ll think of something, but Rose doesn’t care about that now. His arms are around her again, and she’s safe. She doesn’t want to leave him ever again. Nothing in the world is as right as his arms around her.

* * *

“Wait, Wait, Wait!!” Rose cries as they rush through the dining hall. There’s a lone figure at the back of the room, watching the clock on the fireplace mantle. It’s taken her this long, but she recognizes the man-- the gray of his hair, his familiar face.  _ Mister Andrews,  _ She realizes, dragging Jack to a halt. She says his name once to get his attention.

“Oh, Rose,” Mister Andrews says, turning his head towards her as if he hadn’t realized she was there. She imagines that’s the case; the look in his eyes tells her all she needs to know. He looks as if he’s already died, and a part of him has.  _ He’s known for longer than any of us,  _ She thinks. Andrews saw them all go along, unaware of how half of them were already dead, thinking this was just any other evening. Not even thinking they were in real danger.  _ It’s killing him. _

“Won’t you even make a try for it?” Rose asks the kind man, but she already knows the answer. He won’t. Mister Andrews wouldn’t take up a seat on a lifeboat that someone else could use to live, when he was in part why there weren’t enough boats.  _ He blames himself, _ she knew. There weren’t enough lifeboats, and he’d known, had protested and had tried to get the proper number, but it didn’t do any good. It wasn’t his fault. Nobody could have known this would happen. 

He’s silent. “I’m sorry that I didn’t build you a stronger ship, young Rose.” Mister Andrews says, his eyes damp as he looks at her.

Jack takes her hand in his again, insistent. The ship gives a mighty groan beneath them. It’s not meant to carry the weight of all this water, nor, she’s sure, bear so much more weight as the ship rises into the air. “It’s going fast,” He says. “We have to move,” Rose knows-- if they stay here much longer, they won’t get back out-- they’ll die here with Andrews. 

“Wait,” Mister Andrews says, approaching, with a white lifeboat in hand-- meant for him, but he won’t use it. Andrews holds out his lifebelt to her. “Good luck to you, Rose.”

Rose swallows. It’s the last time she’ll see him-- he won’t live long, staying belowdecks. Rose takes the lifebelt from his hands. “And to you.” She says, and embraces him. She’s only known him a few days, but it’s long enough to know that he doesn’t deserve this. None of them deserve this.

* * *

_ “I love you, Jack.” Rose whispers in the darkness. People were still crying out around them, but they wouldn’t be for long. The only other sounds came from the black waves around them, and the breaths that came from their lungs. None of that would last, without the boats. Rose didn’t think they were coming. She was so cold… so cold. She couldn’t feel a thing, nothing but the cold, and Jack’s hand in hers.  _ **_We’re going to die here,_ ** _ She thought. _

_ Jack lifts his head to look at her, his voice trembling. “Don't you do that. Don't you say your goodbyes,” Rose could hear the determination in his voice, determination to keep her alive. She wished she could believe they’d make it. “Not yet. Do you understand me?” He demands. _

_ “I'm so cold.” She breathes. She’d never forget the cold as long as she lived, if she made it out of this. _

_ “Listen, Rose,” Jack said. Rose could tell that whatever he meant to say, it was important, so she tried to listen to it carefully, even though she could barely lift her head. But she knew that no matter how much he bemoaned her goodbye, this was one, too. Because Jack didn’t believe they’d survive any more than she did. And with him in the water… he’d go first. They both knew it. “You're gonna get out of here,” He breathed. She could almost believe him… she wanted to believe him. “You're gonna go on. And you're gonna make lots of babies, and you're gonna watch them grow. You're gonna die an old... an old lady, warm in your bed.” Jack shook his head. “Not here. Not this night. Not like this, do you understand me?” _

_ Maybe she’d get out of this, like he said. Maybe she’d make babies and watch them grow. Maybe she’d die as an old woman in her bed. Maybe she didn’t die tonight. But if the boats took much longer, Jack wouldn’t be there with her. For any of it. And what was that worth, without him?  _ **_Together,_ ** _ he'd promised her. Together in life, and together in death, _

_ Rose couldn’t bring herself to tell him that. She knew what he would think. “I can't feel my body.” _

_Jack’s voice comes again, his hand holding tight to hers, and even that’s cold. “Winning that ticket, Rose, was the best thing that ever happened to me…” He said. “It brought me to you. And I'm thankful for that, Rose. I'm thankful,” Jack breathed. He’d never looked more sincere, even barely able to talk through the chattering of his teeth._ ** _He’s shaking… I’m shaking. Even his voice sounds cold,_** _Rose thought,_ _but Jack went on. He put another arm up on the door, another hand in hers to hold. “You must-- you must do me this honor. You must promise me that you'll survive. That you won't give up, no matter what happens…” He was struggling to even speak, “No matter how hopeless. Promise me now, Rose... and never let go of that promise.”_

_ “I promise.” Rose affirms. She’d try. She’d try to live for him. It was so cold... _

_ “Never let go.” Jack begs her. _

_ “I'll never let go, Jack.” Rose whispers. “I'll never let go,” He smiles at her then, as much as he could. Jack presses a kiss to her knuckle, and breathes through the cold with her. _

“Come, Josephine, in my flying machine… and it’s up she goes… up she goes…” She wasn’t sure how long it had been since they’d spoken. They hadn’t moved in a long time, either. Jack’s hand still held firm to hers. There were no boats.

Rose thought of them singing that song on the way back to first class after the party. Of the wish she made on the star.  _ I didn’t wish for this _ . Even the memory of being in the Renault with him can’t warm her now. She'll never be warm again.

She must look mad, to anyone who was watching. No one was. More dead than alive. Rose felt dead, felt mad.  _ How can something so terrible be real? _ She must have made it up inside her head. And she must be mad to think up such things. She's certainly done other mad things in the last few days-- trying to kill herself, jumping back onto a sinking ship. Rose must be insane. The mad girl, who was frozen, with ice in her hair and frost on her face, singing her songs alone in a floating graveyard, where she’d soon die, too.

_ At least I told Jack that I love him,  _ Rose assures herself. He already knew, but it was another thing entirely to say it. Jack hadn’t returned her words, and he wouldn’t unless a miracle happened. But she knew, too, the same way he didn’t need her to say it to know. “Come, Josephine, in my flying…” 

In the corner of her eye, a yellow light flashed. Rose blinked, turning her head. It was all fuzzy at first, but then her eyes focused… focused on a boat. A single lifeboat, with officers, and a light, crying out for survivors.  _ I'm so tired,  _ she thought. The desire to sleep weighed on her like a bag of stones, like the ring on her finger or like the Heart of the Ocean on her chest. If Rose slept, she'd never wake. She could barely move… but if she didn’t, she’d die here.

“Jack,” She tries to say, but the cold has ruined her voice. She shakes his hand, bringing her other hand up to his to try and get his attention. Rose lifted her head to look at him. “Jack. Jack.” She looks over at the lifeboat; they still couldn’t see her, they were just getting farther away. “Jack, there’s a boat!” Rose says softly, still shaking his hand. “Jack…” 

But he wouldn’t wake. Not a blink, not a stir. Rose wasn’t sure he was still breathing.  _ He's so cold… so cold. _ Cold as death. “Jack! Jack!” She tries again, shaking his hand harder. No… no, he can’t be dead. Not now. Not like this. Not when they’d said they’d make it together. “Jack,” Rose sobbed, clutching tighter to his hand. She’s never been more desperate. Some sign from him… any sign that he was alive would do. If he could just open his eyes, or squeeze her hand… anything. “Jack… there’s a boat, Jack. Jack...” She wanted to cry, but even her tears were frozen by then.

The boat was getting further and further away.  _ I've got to do something,  _ Rose thought. _ If I want to live, I've got to.  _ She'd been fighting for her life not so long ago. But what was that life worth without  _ him?  _ What was it worth if they weren't together?

_ You bastard, _ She thinks, with her head down on the board against his hands. She squeezes her eyes shut. Rose wanted to be furious with Jack, but she couldn’t be.  _ How can you leave me alone? _ She wants to scream.  _ How can you leave me without you? How can you make me owe you my life? How can you die, and make me promise to live? I could stay here and we could both die. _ Rose considered. She knew what he would think of that-- he'd hate it. He'd never let her die with him. But it wasn't up to Jack to save her now.  _ Only you can do that,  _ He'd whispered to her, just this morning.  _ If I don’t live,  _ Rose reminded herself,  _ That promise will be for nothing. If I don’t live, Jack's life will be for nothing. _

It was useless. She couldn’t wake Jack here. She still couldn't leave him behind. But maybe… maybe if they could get on the boat, they’d be able to help him. Maybe someone could help him. Maybe, if Rose got help, there was still a small chance for him. But if she did nothing, they’d both die here, if he wasn’t already gone. 

“Come back! Come back!” Rose cries, sitting up on the board. “Come back! Come back! Come back… come back,” But that did no good either-- her voice was too hoarse, they hadn’t even heard her. “Come back… come back…” She looks over at the officer floating in the water, his whistle still in his lips. He'd stopped blowing it long ago, had perished long ago. Rose knew what she had to do.

Rose gave Jack’s hands a squeeze, and kissed his frozen lips. “I’ll be back, I promise,” She says. “Don’t go anywhere. Don’t go anywhere, Jack,” She pulls as much of his weight onto the door as she can, his chest and arms, up to his hips, till he’s lying face down on the door. Rose slid into the water. 

She hadn’t known she could be colder than she was. Rose gasps at the water-- but she keeps on moving, because the longer she’s in the water, the longer Jack has to wait without help. Even if it’s too late, she’ll do everything she can.  _ If I'm this cold just getting in, how can Jack be alright being in it as long as he has?  _ That thought pushes Rose to swim faster, though her movements are clumsy, weighed down by her dress and coat and shoes, her lifejacket restricting her motions.

From the mouth of the dead officer, she pulls the whistle, and puts it in her own lips. When she blows, it screeches through the night, making the officers on the lifeboat shout and shine their lights on her. The boat turns around, coming back towards her. Rose hears shouting, waves breaking against the boat as it comes closer. She can't let herself feel relief at being saved, not yet-- Jack was still in the water.

“Come aboard, Miss,” One of the officers says as he pulls her from the water. Rose recognizes this one-- the name Officer Lowe comes to mind. “Come on, that’s it… that’s it, Miss. You’re safe now,” They put a dry blanket around her shoulders, and it does little for warmth on such a frigid night. Still, Rose clings to it like nothing else. She’d like little more than to go to sleep, but she can’t. Not alone. They’re already turning away, rowing away from Jack, and that she can’t allow.

“Wait,” Rose insists in her weak voice. “Wait… Wait!” She can’t speak loudly enough to articulate her urgency, so she pulls on Lowe’s uniform. “Wait…”

The officer seems to understand whatever she has in her eyes right then. He motions for the rowers to halt, and they do. He crouches down in front of her, not looking anywhere else. “Is there someone else, Miss? Do you know if there’s someone else alive out there?”

She nods, “Yes,” Rose breathes, pointing in the direction of the door, where she can still see Jack floating alone. “That man, on the door…” She pleads. They’re already rowing over there to check, but they have doubts, and so does Rose.

“You’re sure, Miss?” They ask. “He’s not moving,”

She bites her lip. “I don’t know,” Rose sobs. Her breath comes in gasps, her eyes are wet. There might not be anything they can do for him. “He was… we might still be able to help him. He hasn’t drowned, he’s just cold. He’s so cold, please, you have to help him… If there’s a chance that he could be saved, you have to help him. So many have already died. So many… please. Please…” They’re nodding, so she knows they’ll take him from the water even if Jack doesn’t make it in the end. That’s her one relief. Even if he dies, he’ll be buried somewhere. He won’t be lost at sea in the middle of the Atlantic. 

They take Jack from the water, and lay him down on the floor of the boat, next to her. After a while, there are five other people in the boat with them that have been in the water. One she recognizes, the chef. Another is a shivering Asian man, who was already there when the boar came for her. The others she doesn’t know. 

Jack still hasn’t opened his eyes, still hasn’t moved. She presses her body against his to share what little warmth she has, spreads a second blanket over him. Rose puts her hand on his chest. 

“Who is he?” One of the officers asks her. “Do you know?” He assumes she does, because of the way she’s holding onto him, the way she insisted they take him from the water. He’s not wrong.

Rose twists Cal’s engagement ring on her finger-- they’d made her put it back on after Jack was arrested. She’ll get rid of it before long, sell it or throw it away. But for now it works to preserve her lie. “He’s my husband,” She tells them. In every manner that counted, that was the truth. “We married on the  _ Titanic _ the eve it set sail,” That was a lie, but Rose doesn’t want to be separated from him, and the odds of that happening dramatically decreased if they thought her and Jack were married. “All the paperwork went down with the ship. He’s all I have in the world.”

_ It's not really wrong, in the sense that paperwork never really existed. _ Rose thought to herself,  _ The second part is entirely truthful, though, _ Rose wouldn’t go back to her mother and Cal after this. They’d only trap her, make her marry Cal, and that wasn’t going to happen. She wouldn’t marry anyone now, unless Jack wanted to.

Under Rose’s hand on Jack’s chest, she feels a weak heartbeat. She feels his chest rise as he takes in a breath. Another heartbeat. His heart is moving dreadfully slow… but it’s still beating. He’s still breathing, and that means he’s still alive. Rose could cry for the relief she feels. He’s alive. He’ll be alright. She snuggles in closer, in his arms, and kisses his cheek hard. Jack’s head tips toward her, his eyelids flutter in sleep and his arms tighten around her. She stays like that for a while, counting each breath and heartbeat, because they're all precious to her.

Hours later, she sees the dawn come, and the ship  _ Carpathia _ before them. It’s her hope. 

On the  _ Carpathia _ , Jack is taken to the infirmary immediately. She follows him, and they don’t bother to stop her because they think she’s Jack’s wife. He’s got hypothermia, and he’s lucky he’s made it this long, the nurse says. So many of them are lucky to be alive. She’s just glad that he is. Before long, he’ll wake, and it’ll all be alright again. 

“What’s your name, miss?” An officer asks her when he comes by. She hasn’t left Jack’s side, and neither her mother nor Cal have found her yet. She’d like to keep it that way. Rose keeps up the lie. “It’s Mrs.” She answers without a blink, taking Jack’s hand. “My name is Rose Dawson. This is my husband, Jack Dawson,” The officer nodded, and walked down to the next bed, to get more names. Rose is dead tired, so she lays down on the bed, next to Jack, though it's far too small for the both of them, and let's sleep take her. Nobody tried to stop her-- they did think her and Jack were married, after all.

They wake together, some time later. He still looks tired when his eyes open for her, and he doesn’t know where he is. She tells him. “It’s the infirmary on the  _ Carpathia _ . We’re safe. You almost died. You had hypothermia.” Jack pulls her closer to him, presses a kiss to her forehead and whispers that he loves her. Rose knows. She whispers it back.

Next, he asks why they’re letting her stay with him. It’s partly because they couldn’t have dragged her away, she answers, but not just that. “I told them we’re married.” She says a beat later. Rose doesn’t miss the way his brow raises at that. His hand brushes hers under the blanket. “I told them we married on the  _ Titanic _ , and the paperwork is gone. I told them my name is Rose Dawson.”

Jack swallowed. His eyes are a perfect aquamarine. She’s so glad that they’re open again. She’s so glad that she’s warm again. “Alright,” He breathes. Jack’s hand finds its way to her face, to her cheek. He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.  _ When the ship docks, I’m getting off with you,  _ she remembers saying. Rose was so sure then. Those words feel like they’re a thousand years old. Rose still trusts them. This is one promise she’ll keep. 

His face splits into a grin, and he pulls her into a kiss. Jack's arms are tight around her, and he’s warm, and safe. Now, they’d make babies together, watch them grow together, die warm in their bed,  _ together.  _ They’d go to Santa Monica. They’d drink cheap beer, and ride the roller coaster till they get sick. He’d teach her to ride a horse like a man, in the surf. “When the ship docks… do you wanna make it official?” He asks between kisses.

Rose pulls back, to look at him properly. He doesn’t look like he’s joking. But that’s alright. “You mean marry you? For real?”

Jack laughs. “I know it’s soon,” Oh, she could kiss him. “But yeah. We stay together. I’ll make an honest woman of you,” He joked. “If you want, I’m offering,”

Her hands thread through his soft gold hair. Rose couldn’t believe she was going to say this so soon. It was crazy… and that’s why she trusted it. When she was with Jack, all the crazy things made sense. “Alright,” Rose kisses him. “Let’s do it,”

The sound of his laughter is the sweetest thing in the world. She’s thought it before and it’s as certain as the dawn now-- nothing in the whole world is as right as him and her are together.

* * *

When Rose wakes at night, it’s usually from a nightmare. And it’s usually one about  _ Titanic _ .

In her dreams, she sees Jack die in that cold water. She sees herself leave him behind, thinking he’s dead. She sees all the things that could’ve happened to her had Jack not been pulled from the water with her. Rose never wakes screaming or thrashing about, because the kind of fear these dreams give her is not the kind that would make her scream. She has, however, woken numerous times with tears fresh on her face and sobs in her throat.

Sometimes she wakes Jack. He knows about the nightmares, even has a few of his own from time to time. He’d want her to wake him, now. He’d want to hear about her dream, and kiss away her fears. And in the morning, he will. But tonight, she doesn’t have the heart to wake him. Tonight, Rose knows that just him being there, alive and breathing is enough. That’s what she does, to assure herself that he’s alright, the same way she had on the  _ Carpathia _ , counting his heartbeats and breaths until she saw the sunrise.

Rose puts her hand on his heart, to feel it beating. She puts her head next to his chest, to hear his steady breaths.  _ He’s warm, _ She thinks.  _ That means he’s alive. He has a heartbeat, he’s breathing, _ She fingers the ring on her left hand-- her wedding ring.  _ This ring came from Jack, not Cal, which means he survived that night, _ They’d gotten married within a week of landing in New York. At the courthouse she had officially become Rose Dawson. Her name was his, and due to the supposed lost paperwork and the sinking, it wasn’t that hard to have an official ceremony done without too many questions asked, under the circumstances.

There’d been plenty of money left in Cal’s coat pocket that had survived the sinking. That and the Heart of the Ocean. With the money and selling her engagement ring, it had been more than enough to start a new life together. The Heart of the Ocean, though, they hadn’t sold. It was worth too much, it had too many memories attached to it. It had been a gift  _ for her _ , after all. Not to mention that if they sold it, Cal was all the more likely to find out, and that was the last thing they wanted. At the moment, it was in a locked drawer on the nightstand, with other valuables. 

With a little bit of help from Molly Brown, they’d gotten a small apartment together in Santa Monica, and took the train out there with their meager belongings. Jack worked as an artist, selling his drawings for as much as he could.

Rose, in the meantime, was trying on many different hats, not yet sure of what she wanted to do or if it was just one thing. She was trying out nursing school at the moment-- a more steady paycheck, if it panned out. But Jack had been teaching her to draw, and they got paints when they could. Rose would play around with writing when she could. In the early weeks here, she’d gone to a few auditions for acting. None had panned out just yet, but becoming an actress would have to wait for a few more months. Neither her nor Jack had thought that  _ Parent  _ was a title they’d have to add to their roster so soon.

It was early yet, little more than four months. Enough that someone who looked twice at her could tell. In some sense, Rose wonders if fate wasn’t laughing at her with that one. Maybe they deserved it-- her and Jack hadn’t exactly been  _ careful _ in that car. She finds it ironic more than anything. If Rose hadn’t escaped Cal and left with Jack, she might be in exactly the same position, though far less happy.

Just a few months ago, it was all so impossible to her, so unimaginable. Rose never could have imagined that she would fall in love with someone like Jack, never could have imagined living freely without her mother. She couldn’t have imagined getting married so soon, nor feeling happier for it rather than feeling like a prisoner. Imagined being a mother, and still free.

Her spare hand brushes over the soft curve of her stomach. It’s a girl. Rose just knows-- she isn’t sure how, but she does. Love floods her heart at the soft flutters she feels from them.  _ I suppose I woke you,  _ Rose thinks, _ If the dream were real, you wouldn’t know Daddy’s voice. But you do.  _ That, too, Rose was sure of. Her daughter would be a Josephine, for the song Jack still sings to her whenever it feels right. They would also be a Cora, for the sweet little girl, who Jack had danced with at the party and called his  _ best girl _ , and who to their knowledge had also perished at sea.

Jack’s arms tightened around her, pulling her close. Even in sleep, his hand ghosted over her belly. His soft breaths fluttered on her neck, and his lips brushed against her collarbone.  _ If the dream were real, my bed would be cold, and I’d be alone. _ But she wasn’t. Her bed was as warm and safe as it always was, and her husband was right by her side, where he was meant to be. She’d previously had every intention of waiting until the first light of dawn to rest, the same way she couldn’t breathe until she saw the dawn the day after  _ Titanic _ sank. But now, she’s feeling calm again, assured that they’re safe, that he’s safe. The warmth of their bed is comforting, and has her feeling sleepy again, thinking that maybe she could get back to sleep. Instead of waiting like she’d planned, Rose turns on her side, steadying her breaths and curling closer into Jack. Time passes, and before long she's returned to her sleep again.

Whatever comes on the ocean of her dreams this time, it must be good. She knows it must. Rose doesn’t remember what she dreamed. All she knows is that the next time she wakes, it’s because the dawn has come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's not much I feel I have to address, just a few things.There was really no heavy editing other than adding in new scenes. Anything other than that which you may have noticed, I just feel that it works better this way.
> 
> I'm sure literally no one is thinking it, but I didn't add in all the proper undergarments for the time period in the love scene. I don't even know what to call what Jack would've been wearing, since it was somewhere between union suits and boxer shorts, so it's just called underwear and left at that. As to Rose, I left out the stockings and corset she ideally would've worn. I toyed with the idea of having Rose wear a corset into the car. Contrary to popular belief, a well fitting corset shouldn't be painful, or overly restrictive, but I still chose not to add one in. In this case, It's more of a 'Corsets were a major symbol of propriety and when she's with Jack, Rose doesn't really care about that,' than 'Corsets are oppressive,' In the end, it was because... I didn't want to have to further edit the love scene and add in a corset being taken off by opening the busk, and pulling down stockings, unhooking garters, etc.
> 
> Earlier in the story, I refer to Rose taking off her engagement ring, a pretty significant moment. Later, I state that it's back on, although in the movie you can quite clearly tell that it doesn't end up back on her finger after Jack draws her. The explanation I offer is that after Jack was arrested, they made her put it back on. Why? I like the idea of Rose selling her engagement ring, and it makes it easier for them to pose as a married couple on the Carpathia.
> 
> An inordinate amount of research went into how long a normal person could survive in really cold, and the only definitive answer I have is... it would be close. It's not known exactly how long they were in the water, but... you can argue whether or not Jack actually could have survived, based on various factors. As stated earlier, I understand what James Cameron means when he says that Jack had to die for the sake of the story, but I don't want to write that. Whatever your stance is on if the door was big enough, the one thing I don't buy is that Rose just gives up and leaves him there (and that his body sinks?). As you can see, that was how I got them out of it.
> 
> What's next?
> 
> Well, Jack's perspective of this is more than halfway done. Other than that, I have several cutesy-little one-shots that have come to me in this universe, digging into how their lives progress afterwards. You'll probably see more from me in time.
> 
> Until then!


End file.
